#singledad!simon

[lvrxly]

ִ ࣪𖤐- An Odd Feeling

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

summary: your neighbor, Simon, is a single dad. and you frequently babysit his son, Oliver. You've grown to love Oliver, buying toys for him, planning play dates, and even offering to babysit him while his dad goes on a date..wait what? You really thought after all of this Simon would choose you, but maybe he will..?

cw: simon is somewhat oblivious at the beginning >:((, mdni - smut, slight age difference (Simon is in his mid-30s while the reader is in her mid-20s), unprotected sex, breeding kink on Simon's part, oral sex (f receiving), Simon can't help but want another kid after seeing how you treat his :((

a/n: sorry this took so long to get posted! and i apologize for any grammar mistakes, i don't have the energy to edit this right now ;( (it's almost 4am).

hope you enjoy lovies ;)

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"Thanks again for this love, I should be back around 9pm, please try and get him to bed before then," Ghost says frantically as he passes his son over to you along with his diaper bag and favorite blanket.

There was that damned nickname again. 'Love'. Simon always seemed to call you love, it was almost infuriating how that little pet name could make your heart race and your cheeks heat.

Simon had a date with someone a friend of his set up for him, Soap, you think was the guys name. From a photo Simon showed you, she was pretty, gorgeous even. Slim and tall, long blonde hair, and seemingly put together.

"Yeah no problem. Have fun, try and get laid. You definitely need it," You say with a dry laugh, bouncing his son, Oliver, over to your other hip. Why the fuck would you say that? 'Get laid?' Why would you even suggest such a fucking thing knowing you can barely stomach watching him go out on this date in the first place.

He cleans up nice, a fitted pair of dark grey khaki pants with a white button up shirt, the sleeves rolled, revealing his tattooed forearms, and his sandy blonde hair slicked back out of his face, making him less shaggy looking than you were used to.

Simon laughs and waves goodbye as he turns on the heels of his dress shoes and hops down the steps of your front porch. You wave at his back, shutting the door with a heavy sigh. You turn around and set Oliver down, watching as he bolts toward the little corner of your living room which you had designated as his play area for when he comes over.

Your heart feels heavy as you walk over towards your couch, tossing Oliver's diaper bag and blanket onto one of the cushions. You flop down onto the other cushion, kicking your feet up on the coffee table that is placed in front of your couch.

Oliver looks just like his father, from what you could see anyways. Dirty blonde hair, gunmetal blue eyes, and a small dimple on his left cheek. He was an adorable kid, an easy one to babysit too.

Oliver runs up to you, a toy tractor in his hand as he holds it up to you, his other hand rested on your knee as if to help him balance better. "Tac-tar!" He exclaims.

You smile at him, taking the toy he was offering you, and touching your fingertip on his nose, causing the little boy to giggle. Enough about Simon. Oliver was your date tonight. Your own play date buddy.

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It was a little after 9pm, maybe just about 9:47, when Simon got back. He had knocked on your door for a good 5 minutes before he gave up and decided to let himself in.

He used the key that you would poorly hide under your doormat. The two of you would get into arguments about the placement of the key.

"It's the most obvious spot, love, you're gonna end up getting robbed on of these days." Simon had said the day you told him where it was, he was always worrying about your safety. You knew he was an ex-military Lieutenant, but then again that might just be the dad in him talking.

After unlocking your front door and pushing it open he begins to speak, "Sorry I was a little later than I thou-" But he cuts himself off after his eyes land on your couch.

There you laid on your back, an arm falling off the couch and a leg propped up on the back cushion, snoring lightly. That position couldn't have been that comfortable. But that's not what made him freeze. It was how his son was laying on your chest, fast asleep with his favorite blanket draped over his back. You looked as if his son was your own.

His breathe is caught in his throat as he stares at the two of you, slowly shutting the door behind him as he makes his way over to the couch.

A small smile paints his face as he stands behind the small and slightly sad turquoise couch, bending down so his forearms rested in the back cushion. He watches you sleep, his eyes dragging up and down your frame. After a moment he uses a single finger to brush a stray piece of hair off of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

His smile never falters as he pets the back of his sons head, his long blonde hair slightly sweaty from how hot it probably was being all nuzzled up to you.

You stir in your sleep, your eyes fluttering, only for them to end up shooting wide open in shock. You gasp and clutch the back of Oliver, sighing after realizing who was really watching you sleep.

You sit up, cradling Oliver in your arms, careful not to wake him. "Do you normally watch people sleep?" You say with an annoyed look on your face as you rub your eyes, sleep still attempting to pull you back in.

After regaining most of your consciousness, you stand from the couch, your clothes wrinkled and Oliver's little head on your shoulder as you hold him in your arms.

"Eh, define normally," Simon says, a joking tone noticeable in his voice. Was he trying to make a joke? Since when did Simon Riley ever makes jokes? What the hell happened at the date?

"Your in a good mood. You didn't really end up getting laid right? You know what..? I don't think I wanna know." Your words are frantic and slightly irritated. Why did you feel so...odd right now? Simon is a single man. He has the right to go on dates with beautiful women. Unfortunately.

You bounce around your kitchen, rocking your hips side to side to keep Oliver asleep for as long as possible. You can't help but notice how Simons eyes follow your hips as they move. And..what was that? Did he just groan? No no, that would be crazy.

"No I didn't get laid," He finally replies. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Almost like a breath of relief.

"If I was getting laid I would have gotten back a lot later..It takes more than 30 minutes with me, love.." Simon was suddenly behind you, his breath hot on your neck as his hands hover above your hips, heat radiating off of his tatted skin, almost scorching the flesh of your thighs through your pants.

You stop bouncing his son, glancing over your shoulder at Simon and..holy shit he was close, almost too close. Those damned eyes were pulling you under and you didn't know if you wanted to be saved.

Oliver shifts in your arms, waking up slowly. His tiny hands rub his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. Once he's awake and spots his dad he immediately makes grabby hands towards him.

You gladly hand him over to Simon, anything to get away from the man that was way way wayyyy to close for comfort. You give Oliver to his father and take a large step away from Simon. You see his smile falter but he quickly regains his composure when his son calls his name, his tiny hands on Simons cheeks.

"You have fun while I was away buddy?" He asks his son, to which Oliver responds with a vigorous nod. He then begins to blabble on about his trucks and snacks he ate, but you space out, your eyes still locked on the two of them.

Simon looked so good with a kid, he was a good dad. You can't help but imagine how good he must have been to his wife while she was pregnant. Her lose for leaving him. He's a great guy. Unfortunately, that means women probably throw themselves at him. Hot, ex-military, AND good with kids??? Yeah, they definitely do. And you would to, if you were so full of self doubt.

"Love?" You hear Simon say, his eyes now focused on you as Oliver was seemingly put down to go play for a little longer.

"I asked if you're free this weekend? Oliver is going over to his grandparents for a few days and I was wondering if you'd like to do something?" His voice was shy...that was weird. It's almost like-

"Are you asking me on a date?" You say, a teasing smirk playing across your lips.

"No no, well- no it's not like that. Just as friends, you know- without the ruckus of that one running around." When he says "that one" he points towards Oliver, who was currently crashing two tractors together and making a crash sound with his mouth.

"You know what? Sure Simon. I'll see you then."

He smiles, nodding softly as he runs his hands through his hair, the gelled effect must have worn off because it was back to its shaggy state, almost getting to the point it reached his eyes. He needed a haircut, but it's not like you didn't like the shaggy look. It was unexpectedly sexy.

Maybe it was just your hormones talking but everything about this man was unexpectedly sexy. His tired eyes from sleepless nights and early mornings, his tatted arms, a few of the tattoos colored in with what seemed like marker from Oliver, and his tall frame, almost towering over you to the point you had to look up to see his face.

You did suggest that he should get laid, but maybe you're the one who really needed the action. It's been who knows how long, and your getting so desperate that you literally can't look at him without butterflies fluttering in your stomach as well as..further south.

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After sending Simon and his son home, you immediately ran to your bedroom, quickly stripping out of your clothes and hopping into the warm water of your shower. With your back to the water and your hands in your hair, you can't help but let your mind wander back to your neighbor.

What was he doing right now? Was he helping Oliver brush his teeth? Was he just getting into the shower too? Was his shower water warm or cool? Did he have tattoos elsewhere? What did the soap look like running down his chest and down his legs..?

Okay, you need to go to bed. Sleep would do the trick. Right?

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Wrong. Sleep 100% didn't do the trick. Two full days of almost nothing but sleep and this man has been filling your head with thought of him, some more naughty than other. He had crawled into your dreams, your thoughts, and your daily life in general. You cant even pour creamer into your coffee without seeing his smug ass face in your mug.

It was now the weekend, around 7pm on a Saturday. The sun had already gone down and you were sitting in your living room, a random cheesy rom com on the television as you scrolled on your phone. You scrolled through your feed, seeing videos of your college friends out partying, drinking, and having fun. Then there was you, sitting at home with day old mascara on your lashes and sleep evident on your face.

There was a heavy knock on your door, with a raised brow you hop up from your couch and make your way over to the door, peaking through the peep hole to see who it was. And to your surprise, it was exactly who you were thinking of.

There Simon stood, a bottle of champagne and a single red rose in his hands as he bounces on his heels, he was back to his regular shaggy look, unkempt hair, white t-shirt, blue jeans, and his silver dog tag hanging from his neck.

Quickly, you open the door with a smile and invite the man in. As he walks in towards your kitchen counter you quickly become aware of your appearance. Old makeup on your face, and crinkled clothes that you couldn't be bothered to iron.

However, at this point the two of you have seen each other at your worst, hell you've seen Simon running off of two hours of sleep with a sick little Oliver who wouldn't stop crying and coughing.

"Champagne and a rose? This feels like a date to me.." You tease running a hand across his shoulder as you pass him, earning a shiver from the man. you stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island as he takes a seat on one of the barstool chairs you have, sliding the bottle towards you.

"Take it however you want love." He laughs, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face, his bicep flexing in the process, and holy fuck.

You shake your head and pop open the bottle of champagne. "I'm glad I know you and Oliver, he's a good kid."

"You're such a big help with the little guy, I honestly don't know what I'd do without you. He loves you a lot." Simon is more soft spoken than usual as he twirls the rose between his fingertips.

You're frantically searching your cabinets for those champagne glasses you got all those years ago but have never used. You swear you still had them.

"It's no biggy. He's a joy to have around and probably one of my only friends!" You laugh, sighing after you cant find those dumbass champagne glasses and grabbing two mugs out of the cabinet instead. Not quite what you'd normally drink something like champagne out of, but it would have to work.

"So I'm not considered a friend? I see how it is," Simon fakes a hurt expression as he takes a mug from you with a raised brow. His shoulders shake in silent laughter after he looks at the mug to which it read "Male Tears" in big black lettering.

You laugh along with him, "Eh, I kinda like your son more than you, he's less broody," You tease, pouring the champagne into each of your mugs. Your mug saying "Reading is Sexy" with blue lettering.

There the two of you sat, at your kitchen island drinking cheap champagne out of coffee mugs with a single red rose placed between the two of you.

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After a few hours and an entire bottle of champagne, the two of you sat on your couch together, a movie on your tv.

You sat with your legs draped across Simons lap, his hand resting on your knee as his fingers gently rubbed circles into your skin. It tickled, but in a good way.

You fought sleep, your eyelids slowly shutting and reopening. Your breath was calm and slow, a comfortable silence had fallen between the two of you.

"Gettin' sleepy love?" Simon asks with a chuckle, his deep blue eyes lingering on you as he rubs up and down the length of your leg.

You don't bother answering verbally, you don't have the energy. You shake your head in a quiet and small 'no', your hand coming up to rub your eyes. What time was it? It couldn't be that late.

With a groan, you sit up and grab your phone off of the coffee table, tapping your screen a few times for it to turn on. Your screen nearly blinds you, a curse falling from you lips as Simon merely chuckles next to you. 11:57. Almost midnight already? You thought, there's no way.

Simon peaks over your shoulder and shakes his head, running his hands over his face with a yawn. "Surely I haven't been here all that long, it's definitely past our bedtimes," he teases as he moves your legs off of his, standing from the couch with a stretch, his shirt lifting, showing off a fucking happy trail. This man was too hot for his own good. It had to be a crime at this point.

You stand next to him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you yawn, making your way lazily towards the direction of your bedroom.

"I better get ta' goin'-" Simon begins, before you cut him off.

"Oh please, theres no way in hell you came over here just to hang out as friends, Simon." Your voice is low as you stand before him, your bodies mere inches apart as you stare up at him. Messy hair, sleepy eyes, and those god damn dimples shining through as he smirks down at you. You fuckin' knew it.

His arms wrap around your waist, his face nearing yours as he walks you backwards into your kitchen, your hips hitting the kitchen island. "I've been caught."

His breath smelling of cheap champagne and cigarettes as his lips grazed yours. His lips are soft as he finally kisses you, fitting perfectly against yours.

Simons hands remove themselves from your waist, landing on the kitchen island, trapping you between him and the counter. You deepen the kiss, standing on your tippy toes to match his force, earning an audible groan from the blonde man in front of you.

When the kiss ends, nothing but heavy panting and quiet curses fill the air. "Fuckin' hell love.." he whispers against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up and down your warm skin.

Quiet whimpers leave your lips as his lips work their way up to your ear, where he whispers a phrase that makes your knees want to buckle. "Get on the fuckin' counter doll, I've waited far to long for this and my tongue is tingling for your taste.."

Obviously, you do as he says, hopping up onto the cool granite. "Atta girl," he says, his voice raspy as he tugs the waistband of your pants down, pulling them off your legs as if he's been craving you for years. Maybe he has been..

In a swift motion he pushed you onto your back, earning a quiet yelp from you as your back touched the cold surface. With his eyes glued on your panties and his hands on your plush thighs you can't help but whimper, letting your head fall back onto the counter top.

"Fuckin hell lovie, you're already so wet..." Simon says through gritted teeth, the pad of this thumb rubbing slow circles against your clit, the feeling of the pressure over the fabric of your panties was enough for you to clench around nothing.

"Simon please-" you whimper, your hips rolling against his touch, eager for more. This draws a chuckle from the man in front of you, he pulls his hand away with a smug smirk on his lips.

Not another word is shared between the two of you before Simon is kneeled on the tile flooring and he has your legs over his shoulders, his face at perfect height with your core. He pulls your panties to the side, groaning at the sight before him. He was so fucking hard right now, straining against the zipper of his pants.

He blows a cool puff of air against your cunt, watching as it flutters before it, his smirk never falters as he runs his thumb over your cunt, coving his finger in your juices.

"Riley I swear to the gods, if you don't stop playing with your food-" you begin, getting cut off with his tongue against your slit and his thumb rubbing circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves. His tongue works in and out of you, flicking and sucking, the noises that fill the kitchen are positively hypnotic. Your whimpers and moans mixed with the wet noises of Simons tongue between your legs. And to top it off, every time you buck your hips against his face he moans, a low growl like noise that makes you absolutely drip.

Simon is only using one hand to hold open your legs, his right hand has traveled down to his pants, unzipping his jeans and finally giving himself that oh so needed friction that he's been deprived of. His tongue goes flat against your cunt, his head shaking side to side, flicking his tongue every so often, just enough to catch the tip of your clit.

He palms himself through his boxers, rutting into the palm of his hand. "You like that baby? You're gettin' louder.." he teases as he sucks on your clit, causing your back to arch off of the counter top and your hands to fly to his hair, tugging on the blonde strands, pressing his face into your greedy little cunt even more.

"Simon! Right fucking there, please please please..." You moan, your thighs threatening to close around his head as your legs shake with pleasure. Your breath is quick and your moans are loud as Simon god damn Riley holds your legs open, sucking and licking your clit, you were about to fall apart right then and there, but after he shoves two fingers into your cunt you absolutely crumble.

The orgasm rushes throughout your body, your grip on his hair tight. He doesn't stop though, his tongue stays glued to your clit, his fingers moving at a pace that makes your writhe, drawing out this heavenly orgasm as long as he can.

You're already fucked out as he pulls his fingers out of you, kissing your fluttering cunt, kissing up your torso and tugging your shirt over your head to kiss all the way up your lips. This kiss was everything passionate, the taste of you still lingering on his lips.

Your eyelids are heavy and your chest rises with a quick pace, still trying to come down from your high. Sweat glitters your skin, your panties hanging from your ankle and your mascara running down your cheeks. "So beautiful, so fucking gorgeous baby.." Simon whispers as he kissed you on the forehead, running his hands over your cheeks. "But we're not done yet, no no no, this night isn't over until I fill you up so full that Oliver will have a fucking sibling by tomorrow.." His voice is deep and sultry, pulling you up off the counter by your wrists and tossing you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes.

With a yelp from you, Simon gives a little smacks to your ass. His quick strides make it to your bedroom in no time at all. He tossed you on the bed, you landing on your back, your toes bouncing along with the mattress, earning a low curse from the man in front of you. He stands at the end of your bed, quickly pulling his pants and boxers off of himself. He can't go another fucking second without being inside of you.

The image of this man crawling on top of you, his ink covered arms on either side of your head and your legs on either side of your hips as he pressed against you. It was all so much, your cunt was dripping, and from what you could see so was the tip of his cock.

Holy shit his cock, it was huge, veins running up and down the length of it. You figured he was from the start, but now that it's in front of you, how the hell will it all fit?

His hands reach for your thighs, pushing them up so your knees neared your ears, the tip of his cock teases the entrance of your cunt, the bead of pre-cum smearing all over your clit. You wiggle your hips, eager for something, anything but this fucking torturous teasing that this man seems so obsessed with.

"Simon.." You moan, earning a groan from the man. His eyes have not left you this entire time, his gaze wandering up and down your figure with a look of biting desire.

"Moaning my name like that..fuck," He groans through gritted teeth, pressing the tip of his cock inside, fucking finally.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, biting down on your bottom lip as you grip the sheets.

Simons eyes shut with pleasure as he pushes into you. Only to open once again to watch your face, watching for any looks of displeasure, he makes it about half way when your eyebrows furrow and your hand flies to his torso, pressing against his abdomen as a way to tell him to stop for a second.

"It's okay lovie, breath, you're taking me so well.." He whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek, kissing away a single stray tear that had seemingly rolled down your cheek. Slowly, he continues to push into you, the two of you share a mutual moan as he finally bottoms out, his stomach pressed flush against your clit.

"Good girl, my good girl baby, yes.." He moans, his hands under your knees as he holds one leg over his shoulder and the other off the the side.

Your whimpers, his groans, and the smell of sex fills the bedroom. You rock your hips, indicating the need for friction. With pleasure, Simon gives you what you needs, rolling his hips and pulling out about half way before slamming back inside you. Your loud moans and pleases for more, more, more fill the room, causing Simon to let out a guttural groan, hai cock twitching inside of you.

Simon shifted his hips, dragging his cock out of you. It glistened with your arousal, and it made his face grow hot. He bit back a whimper when he pushed inside you once more. You gasped, and he did it again. Again and again until he had a set a rhythm that had your entire body on fire, writhing against the mattress.

"Yes yes, fuck Simon, makin' m' feel so good, I-" You whimper, your legs shaking and your eyes squeezed shut out of pure pleasure.

Simon had reached a hand down and was now rubbing circles on your clit. Your words had his brain swimming, his thrusts deepening and pace quickening. The tight ball of pleasure was drawing tighter and tighter in the base of your tummy, your cunt fluttering around his cock.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good..wanna put a fuckin baby in you lovie..." His voice is low, his groans turning into whimpers as his thrusts become sloppy, he's nearing his own climax. Your own peak is nearing, your cunt fluttering around his cock, clenching and squeezing as he moves at a pace that is absolutely intoxicating.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered. "Come on my cock. That's it, baby, yeah– good fuckin' girl."

His finger moves quickly against your clit, rubbing as his cock bullies in and out of your greedy little cunt. The force of his thrusts make your tits bounce, earning deep and needy groans from the back of Simons throat.

You came around his cock with a sob of his name, your cunt squeezing him tight as the ball of pressure snapped in your tummy. Your orgasm was hard, slamming over you and rendering you breathless, your head floating. Your clit pulsed beneath the movements of his fingers.

The tightness of your cunt earned a fucked out moan from Simon as he slams in and out of you, reaching even deeper than before. You wanted to scream. He was so deep. You were so full.

"Such a good girl, suck a greedy little cunt— so tight I don't think I'll be able to pull out-, yes baby.." He blabbered helplessly as he becomes utterly pussydrunk, his head lolling back and his eyes closing with pleasure.

"M'gonna come in this tight cunt," Si whispered, almost too quiet for you to hear. He spoke louder when he continued his sentence. "You want my cum, baby? You want me to come inside you? Want me to fill you up, fill this pretty tummy?"

"Yes! Please—!" You practically scream.

"I will— I'll fill you up with all of my fuckin' cum.." He moans, his thrusts sloppy and his grip on your thighs bruising. "Take it all like a good girl," he moaned. "Get you–fuck —get you pregnant. Fill you up with my kids. I'd look after you, baby."

You were basically screaming.

And with that Simon cums, your name falling from his lips as the white hot liquid spills from his cock into you. He doesn't pull out, tugging you up so that you straddled his hips, his hands on your as as he holds you up, him leaning back against the heels of his feet. The two of you share a tender kiss, his lips softly kissing your lips, cheeks, and neck.

"Fuckin' hell love.." He laughs, his voice raspy. He finally pulls out, a deep groan slipping from his lips as he watches his cum drip out of that sweet little cunt. Carefully, he lays you back down on the mattress, staring down at you with low eyes and a small smile on his lips.

"You were so good just now, you know that? So beautiful, so fuckin' hot-" He moves so he's laid beside you, his chest pressed against your back as he rubs small circles on your hip with his finger. "-I loved your moans, and the feeling of your pussy..just stay like this with me for a second, yeah?" His hand runs up and down your side, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as his breath tickles the back of your neck.

What an odd feeling. It all felt as if everything had always been like this. As if the two of you were meant to be, and this was all just natural.

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Simon and You sit in your living room together, his hand on your thigh and Oliver running back and forth with a superman action figure in hand making a 'swooshhh' sound with his mouth.

The promise ring on your finger sparkles as you look down at it, you can't take your eyes off the damn thing. It's been a week since he's given it to you, but every time you eye catches the little piece of jewelry you can't help but stare.

Three years of crushing and helping him raise his kid. One night of his name being moaned and orgasm after orgasm. Two weeks form that night he asked you out. It's been four months since he asked you to be his girlfriend. Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. But not, at the same time. It feels like you've know each other forever so it was natural. Nothing odd about falling in love so quickly.

Or maybe the love has always been there, it was the commitment and the confessions and the confusing mixed signals that were messing with the process.

But in the end everything had fallen in place. Simon still lives next door, but that is gonna change soon. He spends more and more time over at your place than his own. Both his and Oliver's clothes litter your laundry, and instead of one lonely toothbrush in the bathroom, there's now three.

Pink, Blue, and a tiny red one for Oliver.

This was how it was meant to be. Simon, Oliver, and you. And possibly another one. Simon is pretty eager for that addition. Now that was a little fast even for you.

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a/n: not to singledad!simon anymore. <33

p.s.- i tagged everyone who i saw asked to be, sorry if i missed ya! and thank you all so so much for all the love. i love all of ya so so much! <33

#hot dad alert #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #cod x reader #ghost x female reader #fanfic #romance #simon riley smut #he loves you #he has a chokehold on me #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #singledad!simon #taglist #juneonhoth #kenqki #fxngsfxgxrty #sleepyoriana #diasnnohibng #takeyour-pants-off

[vampykween]

Second Chances - series

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader summary: little poppy is simon riley’s entire world and you’ve just had yours turned completely upside down. despite everything, it seems like everything falls into place when you’re with each other. a/n: feel free to drop in my inbox with any and all of your thoughts about this series! i love adding little scenes and ideas yall come up with into the story! ☻

❀ poppy's first day of school part 1

❀ once more to see you part 2

asks/requests:

❀ simon at parents' night

❀ singledad!simon drabbles

bonus parts:

❀ we’ll be alright

#mic writes #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #dad!ghost #simon riley x f!reader #dad!simon #simon riley fluff #oc: poppy #cw: character death #second chances au #singledad!simon

[sun-roach]

Something like a fic idea I will never write, because I currently don’t have the patience

141 but they are an ice hockey team and Roach is a single dad, who had to retire, because his coach (Shepherd) "fired" him (and Ghost, but Ghost fans were angry so he was able to stay in the team). Roach still goes to every game together with his kid to support his team and Shepherd has to go trough a trial because of tax evasion. Laswell takes over as the coach and offers Roach to be part of the team again, which Roach tho refuses because of an injury

#or smth like that #ice hockey au #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #cod roach #cod ghost #singledad!Roach #fic idea #cod #could be any pairing

[eilidh-eternal]

You learn the truth

Part of the Metanoia series | Part 1 | Masterlist | Ao3 |

| SingleDad!Johnny x f!reader | 18+ MDNI | Fenella has a thick accent | off-screen death of non-major characters | sorta horror-esque metaphors for emotions/feelings (drowning, rotting, the usual) | your desire is a living thing and it's eating away at you | reader is, once again, Going Through It |

Thank you @gemmahale for reading this monstrosity and helping me fine-tune it <3

“Sergeant. How copy?” 

Simon looms over Johnny in the team room, sidled up to a sagging couch that’s seen better days, and when he lifts his derelict gaze from the battle-worn photo in his hands he’s met with pinched brows, sloped granite, and folded arms. Worry, in the staid manner he’s come to expect from Simon.

“Solid, Lt,” he answers dutifully, devoid of his usual ebullience, and with a tenor forged from damascus and flint. 

Simon rounds with a languid gait to the opposite cushion, stained with something dark, iron-rich and oxidizing in the loose weave, and lowers himself down beside him. Holds out a gloved hand. Johnny obeys his silent command and relinquishes what might just be the most valuable thing he owns. Deposits it gingerly in his waiting palm.

“How’s she doin’?” he asks, smoothing out a crease in the portrait.

“Started school this past year. Whole head taller than last ye saw her. Still carries that damn bear ‘round the house, too.” Takes his tea the same as Simon, according to Isobel.

“Better that than the bloody mask.” 

“Aye. Better, that,” he agrees, and a ragged breath saws out of his lungs when he sinks back into the sun-bleached nylon.

“And your pet?” Simon passes the photo back and Johnny tucks it reverently back into his breast pocket, folded neatly and pressed close to his heart—where it belongs.

“Isnae ‘mine’,” he drawls, somnolence roughening his voice despite the afternoon sun pouring in through the concrete window. “Stubborn thing, too. Hasnae been answerin’ her phone.”

“That what’s got you mithered?”

“Worried,” Johnny corrects, and Simon folds his hands across his midsection, settling back alongside him with a throaty grunt and the echo of artillery fire in his bones, popping and cracking beneath the weight of his battle-worn body.

“All the same, innit?”

“Not with her. Not when she…” He toys with a clip on a canvas belt loop, rough fingers tracing the burnished amalgam of iron and carbon, and for a moment, he feels your skin. Metallic beneath his touch, chilled by the wind, precious and perfect in his hands. “You an’ her are cut from the same cloth. Dinnae care much for sharin’.” Even when you should.

You keep him up at night, itinerant thoughts always finding their way through the morass of post-operative lassitude back to you. Wondering what you fill your days with. If you still linger by the window in the placid hours of the morning with a steaming, ceramic mug warming your hands, marking the passage of time by the melting of the ice. If the final snow of spring has laced the wild cherry trees along the row with pearl-drop blossoms and an almond sillage. If you’ve seen the picture he managed to take from the ramp mid-flight, on transport to Laswell’s station, mareel lea of clouds undulating beneath a star-flecked velarium. 

Thinking about all the things he said, and the things he didn’t, before he left. Burning with the memory of you, pressed flush against him; soft and warm and safe in the lambent halo of his arms. You felt like his in that moment, and he lies awake, breathing in char and soot from the moreish conflagration ravaging his chest, staining his throat a fuliginous shade of black with each serrated exhale.

He might have told Simon—if the big bastard weren’t rattling the ballistic glass in his sleep. 

You’re standing in the pasta aisle, staring at the selection of boxed macaroni, and you’re drifting further and further into an endless, atramentous night.

Funny, you think, when the sun and stars live next door. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. None of it was supposed to be this way. Stars don't fall from the sky. But meteors do. And now… now you have to crawl out of the crater at the bottom of a pitiless ocean, navigate the upheaval of silt and abysmal detritus, and search for the surface without the gilded hand of the sun to guide you.

You should have stayed away.

Isobel would choose the box with the cartoonish bear. Johnny would make a joke about bears liking porridge, not cheesy noodles. You toss it in your basket with the rest of your ready meals, soggy cardboard already weeping condensation, and battle the undertow to the queue at the till. 

You should have left them alone.

“Beautiful day, today is.” They don't know that the stars have gone nova. That the ossified remains of the Earth creak and settle in the brumal gloaming, caliginous and desolate. They can’t hear you, pounding on the ice, desperate for apricity in a nuclear winter. 

Now you’re the one who’s alone.

“It is,” you lie, and the effluvium of ozone burns your lungs. Cauterizes the hemorrhaging, pulpy mess you call a heart, languishing in the frangible cage of your ribs.

Free divers can hold their breath for 10 minutes at a time. You wonder how long you’ll last trapped beneath a frozen mantle.

It snowed again, the morning Johnny left—pillowed the earth in anticipation of your fall—but several weeks of sleet and freezing rain has turned the pavement into a patchwork of slush and ice that mimics the glacial floes in your veins. Your wellies don’t have the same grip as proper snow boots. Crampons are better suited for the climb ahead. Neither are very practical for a quick trip to Tesco, though. Would look quite odd, standing on ice cleats in the pasta aisle.

The same can’t be said of the car park. With your canvas tote clutched close to your side, you pick your way through fissures of lingering snow. Opt for trickling streams of runoff rather than attempting to balance on the slick pavement. It’s slow going. Tedious. The lingering wind of last week's squall whips at your exposed skin. Lashes and bites, pumping a gelid venom into your veins, and the blackening, gangrenous bits of your mangled heart feel numb. Numb enough that you don’t immediately recognize the car parked next to yours. Twin sets of eyes, stratified ice, rich with moraine, watching from the windows. You don’t realize how the world suddenly feels too bright, staring up through a polynya, until you glimpse an aureate complexion and charcoal hair, silver-streaked with ash and tied up in a loose pony, emerging from the driver's seat.

Fenella MacTavish is a star in her own right. Has a gravity to her that demands to be felt and heard. The pull of your name on her lips drags you through the hole in the ice and dangles you there. Bait for something bigger. Hungrier. And she does it all with a friendly face, a cordon of coronal light woven into a beaming smile—aimed at the fallstreak hole that’s been punched through your sternum. 

“Ye’re a fair way from home, lass.” The divisional line of the Baltic and North Sea, from the feel of it. Or maybe somewhere off the coast of Shetland. It doesn’t really matter. Dread still percolates down your spine and you blink against the sudden shock of the sun emerging from the clouds, lurid rays burrowing into your retinas.

“Better prices for produce on this side of town,” you hedge, and she looks pointedly at the sharp protrusions of box corners against canvas, faultline of her brow erupting with skepticism. 

“Thought Tesco’s all have the same prices, more or less,” she reasons, and you watch the way she leans against the D pillar, arms folded and braced against a hiemal wind that tousles loose strands of hair about her face. A similar image of Johnny from several weeks ago effervesces to the surface of your memory and you shove it down. Drown it in the brine that spumes on roiling white caps. 

You answer with an indolent shrug and make to step around her, slipping your hand in a fleece-lined coat pocket in search of your keys, but like the other MacTavishes you’ve come to know, Fenella has a propensity for prying questions.

“Have ye heard from Joh—”

“No,” you say before she can speak his name, gloved fingers curling around the worn canvas strap across your shoulder like it’s a lifeline. Trying to pull yourself away from the hole in the ice, procellous waves lapping hungrily at your feet where she dangles you from artfully strung words. It’s not technically a lie. Even if there’s a novel's worth of texts from him that have gone unopened and unanswered. “I have—”

“Come have dinner wi’ us,” she volleys back. Guts the wretched desiderium curled at the back of your throat, backed into a corner and hissing at anything that comes near. Coaxes the dolorous, indignant want festering in your chest into the light. 

You want Johnny and his ribald jokes. Want him to look at you the way he looks at Isobel when they walk together. To hold your hand inside the pocket of his coat when you both forget your gloves on the way to pick her up from school. Remind you to leave work at the door. Shut your laptop and close the manuscript. Give yourself a break and come watch some mind rotting show with him and Isobel on the couch. Curl up in a tartan blanket, woven with his family's colors, and pretend you aren't falling asleep with your cheek pressed to his shoulder. Want to bake with Isobel and chase Johnny from the kitchen. Read to her on the nights he’s away, out at the pub on Main with friends from work. Be there, sleeping on the couch with Isobel, waiting for him to come home from assignment.

You want, and the teratoid it’s become circles with the porbeagles. Has teeth and a consciousness all it’s own, shredding through sinewy trepidation and tearing through every layer of adamantine flesh that you wear like armor. Stripping you down to the bone and sucking on the treacly marrow.

There’s no reason why you can’t. Johnny’s said as much. Made it patently clear when he all but tucked you into his jacket with him and let the warmth of sun-chapped lips bleed into your algid skin that night on your stoop. But there’s a picture in the livingroom of the townhouse next to yours that clamors each time you pass it. A ghost, bound to this plane by molecules of ink on photo paper, materializing at your back and whispering words of doubt from the umbrage. Telling you to leave. They aren’t yours to have. 

You feel rime creeping up your legs, briny sea spray turning denim stiff in the darkening carpark. The sun is sinking, varicolored sky unfurling against the plumage of clouds and an austere snowscape, and it casts shadows across the city, long as the list of reasons you shouldn’t.  

“Tomorrow night,” she presses, “roads ‘round here get a tad dodgy after dark wi’ the ice an’ all.” Her eyes drift to the ice surrounding your feet. Stare for a moment, like there are memories trapped there. 

You’ve found your keys. Found them several minutes ago, and have been toying with pressing the panic button. Manufacturing some way out of this conversation. Your toes are numb, too. Whether it’s from standing in a river of runoff or Fenella’s snare, swaying precariously and staring down into the gaping maw of repressed desire, you don’t know. But you do know that you can’t stay here. Can’t keep staring at this woman who looks like Johnny and pretend you don’t want to know everything about her. Him. Them. That you don’t want to go to dinner with her and Isobel because you miss them.

“Tomorrow,” you begin, “I have a meeting. Have to stay late.”

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” she counters. “Bell stays up late to watch Still Game wi’ me. Sure she wouldnae mind waitin’ an hour tae have a friend join us fer some stovies.” You can see Isobel in the car behind her, twisted around in her car seat to watch the two of you, and your heart lurches in your chest. Gnashes and snarls at the web of lies you’ve woven around it, glittering trip wires disguised as a safety net.

Don’t get too close. Don’t get attached. They’re not yours. This will never be your family.

‘Go!’ it wails, and her eyes beg you to stay.

When you finally find your footing again, you take a step towards your car. “I’ll think about it.” Move carefully between cracks in the ice. “See if I can get the meeting moved up. Isobel should keep to her schedule.” Keep your eyes up. Don’t look at the monster she’s dragged out of you.

Fenella nods like you’ve agreed. Either chooses to ignore your feeble attempt at a polite refusal or twists your words into reluctant acceptance as she fishes her phone from her vest. Hums as she taps away at the screen, and you feel the echo of it when your own phone vibrates in your pocket beside your keys.

“We’ll see ye tomorrow night, then.” She smiles, wide and machiavellian, before she severs the snare and watches you plummet. Slips into the warmth of her car as you plunge through the hole in the ice and it freezes over once more. Chum in the water.

Staring at Fenella’s address on your phone screen effects a sinking feeling in your stomach. Drags you down to that abyss again, only this time, you aren’t alone. You weren’t alone before—not really. You’d just denied the truth of what was clawing its way through your chest. Couldn’t face what its existence means.

You stare until the screen goes dark, and then stare some more, until the oven timer chimes and you wade through your kitchen to silence it. Produce a hot pad from an adjacent drawer to pull a cardboard tray of lasagne from the rack, and nearly drop it when the chiming starts again. 

Your phone vibrates on the table behind you, Johnny’s name lit up across the screen. Calling.

‘Won’t be able to use my phone a lot, but I’ll call when I can.’

The awful thing in your chest shudders in answer.

Every muscle in your body tenses. Aches to open the line. Grab it with both hands and pull. Drag yourself from the depths of your self inflicted misery and bathe in the ardent warmth of his smile. You want to talk to him. Want to hear that gravel rich timbre and your name rolling off the escarpment of his tongue.

But should you?

Should you even try to be something you aren’t? Something you never thought you could be. Would want to be. Should you—?

“Bonnie? Ye there?”

Oh, fuck…

“Yeah… I’m here,” you breathe, and it’s not salt water but kerosene that fills your lungs. Burns with self-loathing and penitence as it commingles with ozone. “Johnny, I—” Your voice pitches, teeters on the precipice of trepidation and want, and crumbles away with the marl.

You’ve been ignoring him. Ignoring how you feel. Absconding yourself in your abnegation and rotting on the ocean floor, too afraid to swim. To look for the light. Afraid of falling even further. 

And all of that want comes pouring out of you now. Out of the hole punched through your chest when he left. In a briny deluge down the berm of your cheeks when he shushes you. From puncture wounds, perfect impressions of serrated teeth, sunk to the bone. Not letting go.

“I know, sweet girl. I know,” he soothes, palliating and emollient, but the breath you take scrapes against your throat, coarse with sand and silt. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Johnny.” You thought it would hurt, admitting it. That the jaws would clamp down and you would scream and kick and fight. You were so heavy, full to the brim with want, that you mistook it for that leaden, sinking feeling. Thought it was drowning you.

“Bell said she saw ye today. That ye’re goin’ to visit her tomorrow?” There’s hope in his voice, nestled in the colluvium that tumbles from his lips and settles at your feet.

“Yeah,” you decide then and there. “I am.”

The MacTavish home isn’t what you thought it would be, limewashed stone tucked at the end of a winding, gravel lane, cradled by the tussock and sedge of a heathland and perched on the slope of a shallow vale. Double paned windows cast a genial glow onto the drifts around it, tenuous peaks capped in flakes of gold, and a scintillant lamp floods the walkway, salted cobble, free of the ice your tires struggled to navigate on the narrow streets of Old Kilpatrick. The door is a bathic blue, nearly the same depth as the lacuna between stars on a moonless night, and a boar-head knocker greets you, impeccably polished silver despite its exposure to the elements. Your hand halts halfway to the ring that dangles from gleaming ivory tusks and hangs surprised between yourself and the refulgent star across the threshold. Everything about Fenella and her home is bright.

She ushers you inside, pulling you by a handful of billowing cashmere into the foyer, and promptly defoliates you of the flailing garment and congruent scarf wound around your neck, taking your bag and hanging it from a brass hook beside your coat. “Bell, come an’ look who’s here!” she calls down the passageway, and a brontide reverberates through the hardwood and soles of your shoes. A storm rattling the foliage of a coppice in the thick of Summer. 

Isobel shrieks, effusive in the manner of her excitement, when she rounds the corner from the doorway to the left and catches sight of you, teddy forgotten and swiftly discarded in favor of launching herself down the wide hall. You rock back when she connects with your leg, sinking her hands into layers of chiffon, pleated at your waist and cascading to the buckles of your flats around your ankles.

“Ye made it!” She wears a t-shirt many sizes too big, sleeves billowing around her and the hem rolled and tucked up inside with a knot that presses against your shin. The cracked, peeling numerals 141 are barely visible, on her left side just below her breastbone, and her surname is printed just below, peaks and plateau of the M and T rising above the cloud of your skirt bunched up in her arms. Her hair is loose, curls tumbling just over her shoulders in an unruly race to the wide crew-collar of her shirt, and the smile she beams up at you is blinding. Disorienting. Burrowing into your brain in search of a home. Looking for its carbon copy, etched in a memory of Johnny, sitting on a wooden chair in a kitchen that mirrors yours.

A timer chimes, echoing off smooth plaster painted with a whisper of green, sage and seafoam, and an eclectic collection of frames maps a rich family history from the front door down the length of the passageway,

“That’ll be dinner,” Fenella announces, a hand coming to rest between your shoulders and another delving into her granddaughter's curls. “Bell, show ‘er where tae wash up.” She herds you both forward, and your stomach knots with budding nerves.

“Can I help with anything? Setting the table?” you offer, attempt to make yourself useful, and she tuts her disapproval.

“Nae, jus’ wash up wi’ Bell. Dinner’ll be on the table when yer done.” She slips by the two of you, disappearing down the passageway and to the right while Isobel fits her hand into yours and leads you through the door she came from.

There’s a sideboard adjacent to the washroom, and while Isobel scrubs the days mire from her nails you cast your attention to the portraiture above it. Echoes of a convivial home, filled with family during the holidays, outings in the city, and school portraits. Johnny’s service portrait hangs front and center above a shadow box, pin board nearly full with brassy medals and gaudy ribbons. Years younger and clean shaven, he looks boyish and bright-eyed, even with the army drab and neutral expression. But there's a familiar tilt to his mouth, permanently skewed in an inveterate smile, and a whisper of laughter in the gentle slope of his shoulders, not yet filled out with the corded muscle that’s become so familiar. Several inches to the right and many years later, he appears as you know him now. Dark shadow of stubble, interrupted by the stitchwork that created the twisting scar on his chin, and— 

The bulk of his body is curled around a young woman, dark cloud of curls concealing her face, buried in the hollow space beneath his jaw, but the swell of her belly is obvious in her profile. Isobel’s mum. 

“Yer turn!” Isobel lilts from behind you, but you remain rooted to the polished hardwood, staring at a ghost, and wait for the rebuttal.

They aren’t yours. This isn’t your family. 

Budding nerves blossom in the loamy pit of your stomach, creeping along spiculated vines towards the moldering gaps between your ribs, and your heart stutters in its crumbling cage alongside the starving, pacing creature you call want. 

Forget them. Leave.

You wait, and wait, and wait—and it never comes. The ink doesn't wail, the frames don’t rattle, and there is no voice whispering over your shoulder.

There is a darling girl, tugging at the fabric of your skirt and the mess of snarled threads around your heart, picking apart the tangled web you’ve been lost in, and she guides you through the fray to the washroom basin.

“Ah spoke wi’ Johnny this morn’,” Fenella begins, reaching across the table to wipe at the broth dribbling down Isobel’s chin. “Said ye finally had a chance tae talk.”

“Oh. Yes, we did.” You don’t tell her how Johnny did most of the talking, took your sniveled apologies for avoiding his messages and buried them in the colluvium. Caught you, from a world away, and lowered you gently to the earth when you fell apart in your kitchen. “He sounds well.”

“Aye, he does. Havnae heard ‘im like that since Kirsten died.” She leans back in her chair, half-finished bowl of stew all but forgotten. “Those two… och, they were a right pain in my arse. Where one went the other followed, an’ made twice the trouble for their Mam.” 

The revelation glues to your brain, tenebrous and viscid. 

“Has he told ye about ‘er, his sister?”

“She saw the picture in the passageway,” Isobel chimes in, babbling around a mouthful of roast potato.

Their Mam. The picture in the hall. Johnny’s sister. The ghost next door.

“He’s mentioned her once before.” You drag your spoon through cooling beef and potato, breaking up the congealed, starchy mass, and try to do the same with the memories that tangle themselves together in your head. “He told me about his wife; that she passed two years ago. I— He never said his sister passed as well. I’m so—”

“His wife?” Quicksilver brows fly towards the inky peak of her hairline, bewilderment etched in the incredulous slash of her mouth, lips drawn tight. “Johnny’s ne’er wed, lass.”

Your hand stills but your heart rattles, throwing itself against baleen bars, and the pinpricks of teeth, gnawing at the fallstreak hole in your sternum, threatens to crack your ribs open at the dinner table. “Isobel’s mother—”

“Is his sister,” Fenella finishes for you.

“Then, Johnny… Why didn’t Isobel’s father raise her?” 

Fenella casts a furtive glance in Isobels direction and finds cordierite eyes staring back at her over an empty bowl, gleaming with a startling discernment. “Stay here,” she motions towards you, and plucks Isobel from the chair between you, balancing her on a broad hip. “All done, Bell? Let’s get ye settled in the den, hm? With Ghost?” Isobel clutches at her shirt for balance, dips her chin in agreement, and Fenella takes her from the dining room, leaving you alone with the savage things in your chest.

Sister. Never married. Niece.

It percolates through gray matter. Drips from the roof of your mouth, nauseating and saccharine, and when you swallow you feel the drop in your stomach like an iron weight. Wilted petals and desiccated vines withering. A febrile joy laced with bile bubbling up your throat; sickly cocktail of absolution and compunction. 

There was never a ghost trapped in a picture frame. No headstone inscribed with the MacTavish name and the words ‘Loving Wife and Mother.’ Every poisonous word whispered in your ear came from the devil on your shoulder, sowing demurral and rooting it in reproval, and the roaring in your chest, thundering pulse in your ears, screams yes.

The muted playing of fanfare from the TV cuts through the cacophony in your head, and Fenella’s voice allays the discordance. “She knows more than she lets on.” A sigh filters through her nose with a ‘hum’ and she slides into the chair Isobel occupied previously. “She misses him. Misses him like a wean misses their Da.” Misses him the same as her Mum. Gone somewhere she can’t follow, a place kept secret from her, with no way to know when he’ll be back. If he’ll come back. 

The unpleasant realization of that very real possibility scrapes down your spine, whetted talons screeching against corrugated bone.

“Johnny’s the closest thing Bell’s ever had tae a Da,” she elucidates. “They used tae work together, ‘fore Johnny joined up wi’ the Task Force. Passed selection the same year.”

“She—Kirsten—met him through Johnny?” She nods, smiling, but the curve of her mouth has a mournful edge.

“She did. Johnny brought some lads round for Hogmanay one year. Took his sister out wi’ ‘em tae the pubs. Said she took one look at Aaron MacAndrew handin’ ‘er brother his own arse at darts and knew she’d marry ‘im. Did so, the following year. Hardly made it another ‘fore she told us she was havin’ Bell.” The memory of her daughter brightens Fenella’s eyes. Bottled lightning, bouncing off maldivian blue glass. “We were all excited. ‘Specially Johnny; couldnae wait tae meet his niece. Brought home gifts for Kirsten and the wean from every tour and couldnae go to ASDA wi’out buyin’ another teddy or romper.”

“Did Johnny and Aaron tour together?” She nods solemnly.

“Few weeks after Kirsten had Bell they left. Got their orders a month earlier, an’ Aaron… He didnae let Johnny tell Kirstin ‘til after she had the wean. Didnae want her tae stress. 

“They were tae be gone three months, so Kirsten stayed here an’ I helped wi’ Bell. Went a while ‘fore we heard anythin’ from Johnny. Said things got hairy. Had tae go dark. Stay hidden. We didnae know why ‘til he called again an’ said he was comin’ home early, but naw Aaron. Naw ‘til he was the only one tae come off the plane.”

Laughter trickles in from the den, pooling in the hollow silence that yawns between you and Fenella. “I…” you try, but every word you string together with the next frays around the knot in your throat. 

“She was angry wi’ him for some time. Aaron had died weeks before he called, an’ he kept it from ‘er. Didnae want tae tell her on the phone. Wanted tae be there when she found out.” She shifts her weight in the chair. Leans forward to fold one arm over the other on the table. “Johnny took it hard, too. Losin’ his mate an’ then his sister. None of us saw her for the better part of a year after he died, an’ Johnny took the blame for it. She wouldnae see him. Didnae come ‘round for holidays. He thought if he made ‘imself scarce she might come out her shell, so when he heard from a Captain he used tae serve under, ‘bout the Task Force an’ the longer assignments that came wi’ it… He packed ‘imself up an’ off he went. Was another year ‘fore they finally saw one another. Never knew what was said between the two of ‘em, but they were close as ever afterwards. Right up ‘til she passed.”

“And she listed Johnny as Isobel's next of kin.” Fenella nods, bottled lightning limned with a silvery tide. “I… I’m so sorry. About Kirsten, Aaron, bringing it up— I shouldn’t—”

Despite the tears tracking down her cheeks, Fenella shakes her head. Smiles, and reaches across the table to clasp your hand in hers. “Ye dinna need tae apologize, lass. I should be thankin’ ye, really.” You try to pull away but her hand tightens around yours.

“Thank me? I haven’t—”

“Done anythin’? Lass, ye’ve done more than ye know. He talks about ye. Every time we go tae lunch. It’s ye, an’ Bell, an’ how excited she always is tae see ye. How he thinks she might fancy ye even more than he does. And he smiles. You brought that back.”

And fuck, if that isn’t everything you hoped for. To know that he smiles for you. Because of you. It alchemizes the iron in your stomach to lead, bathed in acid and leeching an acrimonious guilt into your bloodstream.

You ignored him.

Pulled away, just like his sister did.

And Fenella is thanking you. 

Midnight settles over the MacTavish home in a mantle of crushed velvet and embroidered stars. Fenella insisted that you stay after dinner. Spend some time with Isobel in the den.

That was several hours ago.

Curled in the corner of a chenille couch, you sit with Isobel pressed to your side, head pillowed by the masked bear she clutches in her sleep.

“Someone’s finally tuckered out,” you muse, brushing an errant curl away from her face. “I should head home. Let the two of you rest.” Fenella stands from her chair beside the couch and maneuvers around the coffee table in the dim light of the TV.

“It’s late,” she rebukes. “I’ll naw have ye out at this hour. Stay the night. Ye can take yer rest in Johnny’s old room.” Fenella croons as she peels Isobel out of her cocoon of blankets and hoists her up into the cradle of her arms. “C’mon Bell, let’s show the lass where she’s stayin’ the night.”

“The roads really aren’t that bad, I— I should be able to make the drive just fine,” you insist, but the admonition in the gaze she levels you with quashes any further argument.

You follow, albeit hesitantly, from the den up a narrow flight of stairs, and hope that she can’t hear the tremulous rattling of your breath behind her. She deposits Isobel, teddy and all, in a colorful room, shelves overflowing with picture books and bins piled high with teddies and toys, tucks her snug beneath a hand-sewn quilt and leaves her with a peck on the cheek to guide you into the room across from hers.

She rifles through a chest of drawers, scratched pine and chipped lacquer, stood up against the wall opposite a wrought iron bed, draped in purples and greens that bring thistle to mind. “Ye can wear some of Johnny’s old things. I’d give ye somethin’ of mine but, well… I think ye’d be more comfortable in this.” Tracksuit bottoms and a pullover. She leaves it on the bed as she moves to where you hover near the doorway. “Washroom is just down there, on the right,” she directs, pointing to the far end of the hall. “An’ I’m just across the way if ye need anythin’. See ye at breakfast.”

With you and Isobel settled in your respective rooms, she ambles off to her own, door clicking shut softly behind her, and you’re left staring at Johnny’s clothes. On Johnny’s bed. In the bedroom where he grew up. Wondering how—if at all—you’ll be able to sleep tonight.

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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[homeofthelonelywriter]

Love | Oneshot

(A/N) My first Ghost fanfiction aaaahhhhh. Really excited about this one. Also, this came into existance within like an hour, so it's not proofread or anything and I wrote half of it on the verge of falling asleep. Still, I hope you enjoy it.

Pairing: Older!Singledad!Neighbour!Simon x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: slight angst, mention of injury, mention of drugs (medicine), fluff

Synopsis: You are Simon's younger neighbour, as well as his son's daycare worker. After getting to know each other, the two of you struck an arrangement, where you take care of Simon's son, whenever he has to leave. One day you get a call, that Simon has to leave suddenly, so you go and pick up his son. But when there's no contact for over a month, you start to get worried. Will he be alright?

“Again, I am really sorry I just have to leave.”

You watched Simon rush through his living room, grabbing both his and his son’s stuff and throwing them in separate bags. He had just called you and asked if there was any possibility you would be able to take care of his son for the next few days. He’d been called away on an important mission and had to leave immediately. So you had quickly dressed yourself and gone over to his house.

It wasn’t unusual for you to look after Simon’s son, but usually, he would be able to tell you in advance and not only half an hour before he had to be out the door.

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s fine? I really don’t mind.”

You were standing next to the door, bouncing Teddy on your hip, while holding his favourite plush in your other hand and entertaining him with it. He was giggling, and the sound alone caused a smile to appear on your face.

You’ve always been told you were good with children. And it was true, you were. So no one was surprised when you went to work at a daycare as soon as you were done with school. There, you were the youngest employee, in charge of a whole room. No one could deny your talent. And coincidentally, Teddy was also in your room.

As soon as Simon and you found out that you’re neighbours, you went to the head of the daycare and asked if she thinks that it’s a conflict of interests, but she was happy to leave everything the way it was, as long as Simon was okay with it. And he was.

A shriek giggle ripped you out of your thoughts and you looked up to see Simon, dressed in his uniform, walking up to you and his son, his arms extended towards the toddler. Teddy mirrored his dad’s position and you handed him over with a smile.

Simon in general was an intimidating man. Tall, broad and seemingly only consisting of muscles, you would be scared shitless if you didn’t know him any better. But you did. The first time you met him, he was covered in Teddy’s puke and extremely tired. Both of you had left your houses at the same time, not yet knowing that you worked at Teddy’s new daycare.

As soon as you saw the two, you grabbed one of the wet wipes you were always carrying with you and walked over to Simon, gently cleaning his chin from his son’s puke. Of course you had to get onto the tip of your toes to properly reach it.

He thanked you before getting in his car and driving off. When the two of you met again later at the daycare and he found out you’d be in charge of the room Teddy would be in, he questioned if you were even old enough to be out of school.

Yes, your friendship started off with the two of you butting heads, but it didn’t take long to convince him of your talent with kids. He saw it every time he came in late to collect Teddy, when you’d be alone with him, and even though you were visibly tired, you gave your all to entertain his son.

After a few weeks of you gaining his trust, Simon and you started to actually become friends. Soon, you were on the list of approved people to pick up Teddy, since Simon often worked unpredictable times and rarely collected on time. Instead, Teddy would help you close up after the last child was picked up and you’d take him home and take care of him at your place until Simon would come and pick him up.

This arrangement turned into you becoming sort of a mother figure for the toddler, taking care of him whenever Simon had to leave or work over time. Still, something like this, where Simon had to leave with such short notice, had never before happened and you had to admit that you were a little worried by the intensity his eyes held.

And while your smile wavered at those thoughts, seeing Simon cradling Teddy against himself brought it back.

“You have my debit card if you need anything. And my boss’s number is saved in your phone. Bedtime is at eight and his favourite toys are-”

You interrupted him.

“They are already at my place. As are half of his clothes and toiletries. I have enough of that puree he can’t get enough of and if I run out, I’ll just make more. I also have dino chicken nuggets and fish sticks.”

Simon looked at you, his eyes soft and slightly wet.

“You don’t have to worry, Si. Everything will be fine…just…just be careful, okay?”

He nodded and checked the bags one last time before he handed Teddy to you and pulled his balaclava down. With a swift movement, he lifted both bags with one hand and used the other to open the door, letting you walk out before him. He quickly threw his bag in the back of his truck, before accompanying you to your house.

You balanced Teddy on your hip, so you could open the door and step inside, Simon right behind you.

“Right…”

He placed his son’s bag right next to the door and then just stood there, slightly awkward. With a sigh, he stepped closer to the two of you and placed a kiss on Teddy’s forehead.

“I’ll be back soon, buddy. Dada loves you.”

He turned to you and placed his hand on your cheek, cradling it for a moment.

“Thank you, love.”

You knew that in that moment, your cheeks were bright red. You always reacted that way when he called you love, and it always stocked the flame in your heart, hoping that one day, he would actually mean it in a romantic way.

“Of course. Go safe the world, Si. We’ll be here when you get back.”

He nodded, pressed one more kiss to his son’s forehead, before he left and closed the door behind himself. A few moments later, you could hear the engine of his truck starting and you watched him drive away through a window.

Since Teddy was so used to spending time at your place, he never made a fuss when Simon had to leave for a few days. But days turned into weeks and weeks turned into one and a half months. You tried to hide it from Teddy, but you were growing increasingly worried about your neighbour. The last contact you had with him was three days after he left. You knew that because of the nature of his job, it was rare for him to actually be able to get into contact with you, but this is the longest he had ever gone without contacting you while gone.

You had just put all the toddlers down for their nap when the room phone rang. You quickly picked it up, hoping that it didn’t wake any of the kids.

“Toddler room?”

The head of the daycare was on the other end.

“I’m sending someone to cover for you. Please come to my office as soon as they’re there.”

You frown. This wasn’t usual behaviour.

“Ah…yeah, sure. Thanks.”

It didn’t take long for your cover to arrive in your room. You immediately made your way to the office, nervously picking at your fingers. Once you arrived at the door, you quickly knocked and entered as soon as you were given permission.

The first thing you noticed was the tense look on your boss’s face. The next was that the landline was lying off the hook, on the table.

“What is…?”

Your boss looked at you with pity in her eyes, before she got to her feet and gently squeezed your shoulder.

“Take as much time as you need.”

She gestured to the phone before leaving the office and closing the door behind herself. With shaky legs, you made your way to her desk and picked up the phone, taking a deep breath before you raised it to your ear.

“Yes?”

On the other end, an older woman said your name and you quickly confirmed it.

“I’m calling on behalf of Mister Riley.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Yes?”

“He was injured on his last mission and is currently in the hospital, recovering.”

A sob escaped your lips and you couldn’t stop whispering your thanks to whatever being was watching over you and Simon.

“I’m sure he will contact you himself as soon as he is able to, but we were asked to do so ourselves in case he is unable to.”

“So he’s alive?”

Your voice was shaky, your lips quivering as tears of relief streamed down your face. The other end of the line was silent for a moment, before the woman spoke again, this time, a smile was clear in her voice.

“Yes, he’s alive.”

“Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you.”

She chuckled, before wishing you a good day and hanging up.

You took a moment to compose yourself before walking out of the office. Your boss was waiting a distance away from the door.

“So?”

You smile, but a sob quickly tore through you. Your boss had always known of your feelings for your neighbour, so when she got a call from his employer, she was probably just as worried as you were.

“He-He’s o-okay.”

You sobbed again, tears now freely flowing down your face.

“That’s great!”

Your boss quickly pulled you into a hug and consoled you until you had somewhat calmed down.

“Listen, grab Teddy and head home, okay? Take a few days off and prepare for him to come home. And keep me up to date, yeah?”

You nodded and thanked her before heading back to your room. There you filled in the others and carefully picked up the still sleeping Teddy, carrying him to your car.

Twenty minutes later you were home and Teddy was awake, excited he got to spend the rest of the day at your house with you. You smiled at his excitement and used taking care of him as a distraction for your feelings.

Time passed quickly and before you knew it, Teddy was falling asleep in your arms. As quietly as possible, you carried him upstairs and tucked him in, pressing a kiss to his forehead before whispering a quick ‘good night’ and leaving his room.

You had barely made it downstairs when there was a loud knock on your front door. For a second, you hesitated, wondering who would be knocking at your door at this hour, but despite that you opened it and immediately stumbled back, trying to support Simon’s weight on top of yours.

“Ah, ah, come on big guy. Don’t wanna crush that lassie right away, huh?”

You felt the weight being lifted off of you and looked up, seeing a young man with a mohawk, wearing a similar uniform as Simon.

“You got him Soap?”

Behind him, an older man entered your house. He had a thick beard and brown fisher hat and smiled at you. The two of them grabbed Simon and slowly dragged him to your couch, where they let him plop down, before they turned back to you.

They quickly introduced themselves as Price and Soap, colleagues of Simon’s.

“When he said that he would sign the papers to get out of the hospital and drive here while still high on pain meds, we knew we had to do something.”

Price was explaining the situation to you, while Soap was still in your living room, chuckling in time with the sound of a phone taking pictures. As soon as Price noticed what was going on, he shook his head with a sigh and sent you an apologetic smile.

“I should get that one back home as well. If you or Simon need anything, just give me a call, yea?”

He handed you a piece of paper with his phone number, before he grabbed Soap and dragged him outside.

As soon as you were alone, you quietly walked towards your living room, stopping short when you saw Simon sitting up and raising his phone to his ear. You hesitated to say something when you felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket. You pulled it out and smiled when you saw Simon’s name.

“Simon? What are you doing?”

“I just…you are amazing.”

You blanked for a second as heat rushed to your face.

“Wha…What are you talking about?”

“You…and you with Teddy…and you with me. You are just amazing and I love you and I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while now but you are so young and you deserve better than me. I mean, I’m not even here most of the time. You deserve someone who’s there for you and can take care of you and hug you and isn’t broken, but me, I am broken. So very broken and you deserve so much better and-.”

You stopped him, a smile in your voice.

“Simon…I love you too.”

You suddenly watched him jump to his feet with a wince, but even though he was clearly uncomfortable, he started fist bumping the air, making you chuckle. Patiently, you waited for him to place his phone back to his ear before you continued to talk.

“Simon…tell me all of this again tomorrow, okay? When you’re not high on meds.”

“Yes…yes I will.”

You chuckled and walked over to him, placing your hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Oh, hi.”

“Hi Si. Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

He nodded, a lovesick grin on his face as he let you lead him upstairs to your bedroom, where you carefully took off his clothes and put him in one of the sweats he had left at your place a few months ago. You carefully pushed him onto the bed and tucked him in. As you were about to leave, he caught your wrist and held you back.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch. You need the bed, big guy.”

He shook his head and pulled you back.

“No…stay. Please. I swear I’ll behave.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle and nodded.

“Okay, okay. Just…let me change, okay?”

With a content sigh, he nodded and let go of your wrist. But he continued to watch you as you walked to your bathroom. It didn’t take you long to change into your pyjamas and get back into the bedroom. As you entered you noticed that Simon quickly hid his phone, before he turned to you, holding out his hand.

You slid into bed and got comfortable, before you turned off the light.

“Good night Simon.”

“Good night, love.”

You were awoken by a shrill squeak.

“Dada!”

You opened your eyes and saw Teddy climb up onto the bed and straight into Simon’s arms, who gave his son a big hug.

“I’ve missed you buddy.”

“Missed dada.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you watched the two, but you also felt like you were intruding on their moment. You tried to slide out of bed, but were pulled back before you got too far. A surprised shriek escaped your lips as you bounced on the mattress, Simon suddenly leaning over you, Teddy on his back and hanging on to his neck.

“I love you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, before a smile took over your face.

“You remembered.”

Simon chuckled.

“There’s not enough drugs in the world to get me high enough to forget what we said last night.”

Your smile turned into a grin and you softly cradled his cheek in your hand.

“I love you too.”

A cocky grin took over Simon’s face before he dove down and pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss as your lips moved against his. Both of you were pulled out of the moment when Teddy tumbled off of Simon’s back and into your lap. You pulled back and smiled at the toddler, who started crawling towards you, Simon following your gaze.

“Let’s get that one fed, huh?”

You chuckled and nodded, but as Simon moved to stand up, you noticed the him wincing. He played it off for Teddy’s sake, but you quickly pushed him back down.

“Other idea, I go and make some pancakes and we have breakfast in bed?”

As soon as the ‘p’ word left your lips, Teddy squealed excited, making Simon chuckle.

“That sounds good, love.”

The same old heat flooded your face at the nickname, but now you knew his feelings behind it.

Please consider reblogging and following me! It helps a lot!

Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

#ghost #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost cod #cod #cod fanfiction #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #fanfiction

[wordstome]

i’m here to encourage you to please elaborate on singledad!könig

also, do any of their kids have any scuffles with each other? how do the parents and children deal with it?

This ask was sent 10 minutes after the dream daddy post went up. Anon, I adore you.

I was going to put single dad König in this same post, but then it started to go on and on, and I want to take my time with the second half of your ask as well, so all my König thoughts will go in a separate post. Thank you for enabling me :3

(also this is the post I lost 3 paragraphs worth of writing on. It was literally all of Price and Ghost's sections, so forgive me if they're not up to par).

Price: With three kids, there are bound to be spats. Brianna taking something of Alice's without asking, Clara ruining one of the older girls' possessions, etc. etc. People see Price with all girls and remark how peaceful his house must be, but Price (and anybody who has a sister) knows that is NOT true. The Price home is chaos interrupted by periods of peace. Luckily, their dad is a literal military captain, so he's able to whip them into shape. All manner of crying, yelling, and shrieking can be silenced with one singular "GIRLS!" from the man himself. Then after that comes the soothing and the stern talking-tos.

Ghost: I think Simon was great with kids pre-Roba, he had Tommy and then his nephew Joseph. But post-Roba and his work in the special forces, he's much more rough around the edges. Like I said in the main post, Caden is a pretty quiet kid, so I can't see him starting or getting into any trouble. But he is still a 10 year old, so I can see him throwing a fit when he's frustrated or uncomfortable. If this happens in public, Simon will pull him aside and talk to him quite sternly, especially if Caden is making a ruckus as an emotional outlet. In private, he gives Caden space to let it all out, and then talks to him afterwards. However, if Caden can articulate what's upsetting him, he's very gentle and understanding. One way or another, I can see Simon getting help with his PTSD, so he uses a lot of techniques that his therapist taught him with Caden.

Soap: I imagine Elodie as about 6-7 years older than Thomas, who is a literal baby, so I can't see that they get into any fights. Mostly Elodie getting cranky about Thomas getting all the attention, at which point Johnny has to reassure his daughter and give her some love as well. When they're older, Elodie is a classic older sister who fucks with her little brother. She's never truly malicious, but there are definitely times when Johnny's standing in front of them sighing and pinching his nose because Elodie's played a nasty prank on her brother. Johnny's a very picks-his-misbehaving-kid-up-like-a-doll-and-gives-them-a-noogie kind of parent. He's never raised his voice at his kids, but instead has an "if what I think is happening is happening, it better not be" tone that instantly strikes fear into his kids' hearts. I can hear it in my head. I know you guys can hear it in your head too. 'Nuff said.

Gaz: It's hard to say what it's like when Kyle's kids fight: I can see Violet being the sort of girl who is quite close with her younger brother, so I can't really imagine a lot of scenarios in which they would fight. But Elliott is a younger brother and Violet is a growing teenage girl, so there have probably been a few times when Violet got mad at Elliott and screamed at him or said something that she regretted. Kyle and Emily will both scold the kids when they step out of line, and they both do their part when it comes to discipline. Kyle in particular is a very "I'm not mad at you, I'm just disappointed" sort of parent. He expects a lot of Violet, but sometimes that pressure can get to her.

König: This man is overwhelmingly soft for his daughter. The calmest, most gentle giant. I think out of all the dads he's most susceptible to spoiling her, which obviously could become a problem. He's incredibly lucky though, because Ava is an angel. She is spoiled, being an only child on her daddy's colonel salary, but she gives more "kind rich girl" vibes than "inconsiderate little brat". I'm going to elaborate more on this in the upcoming König post, but he's got this deep sadness to him because he lost his wife. Ava is a pretty perceptive child, so she doesn't act out unless she's having a really hard time, in which case König is nothing but soothing and reassuring.

Horangi: If Ryujin (Hong-jin's daughter) has beef with you, he's kicking your ass right alongside her. When she was young, she was fully capable of both starting and finishing fights, and Hong-jin was an incorrigible enabler who was more likely to double over laughing than scold his daughter. Her mother usually had to be the disciplinarian. Hong-jin and Ryujin have a complicated relationship, but in adulthood, they're pretty even keel, and have grown even closer since the death of Ryujin's mom.

Keegan: Jason and Cecelia have been through a lot together, so they don't really fight. When they do though, it's nasty, and Keegan serves as more of a go-between than a disciplinarian role. Both of them will seek advice from him, but he understands that they know each other better than he does. Not for lack of trying, of course, but it's inevitable with older adoptions. His role comes from having more life experience, and he's got a kind of impenetrable chill that makes everybody a lot calmer.

#ghost x reader #König x reader #john price x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #keegan x reader #horangi x reader #price x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #keegan russ x reader #konig x reader #cod ghost #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soap cod #john price #kyle gaz garrick #König #König cod #konig #konig cod #horangi #horangi cod #kim horangi hong jin #keegan #dream daddy au

[undercover-smutlover]

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley…💀

main masterlist📌

*·˚Don’t forget to reblog, follow, like, and comment on the authors’ or artists’ pages. Show them some love!

*·˚Broken link or @? Pop a note in the comments or my ask box.

Works by @ghostsareeverywhereblah2

Guard Dogs Pt.1: “He’s even cuter in person”

Guard Dogs Pt.2: “She’s always listened, just not to you”

The Progeny Series: “Shit, Lt. Looks like you actually have a real admirer”

Grumpy x Sunshine: Who in the world can be in a relationship with Simon?

Works by @lethalchiralium

Delicate + König: You were glad you had them both, satisfying your needs

Raindrops: He’s trying to remember every moment

Works by @ghosts-cyphera

Bloodied Bullets, Soft Confessions: “I guess I’d been lucky so far.”

Pornstar Ghost:  All genuine, from both of you

Works by @yawnderu

Adoration: while he holds you closer, thinking of more jokes he read online just to tell you

Lorelei: ''She's looking at you like she knows you.'' Your response is ominous to say the least

K-9: He took that chance to look at you, to truly admire you

Works by @peachesofteal

Dead Disco: The one that’s always left behind

Light On: Simon has a new neighbor

Works by @lvrxly

Singledad!Ghost: "Eh, I kinda like your son more than you, he's less broody," You tease

An Odd Feeling:

Three Is A Crowd by @xyziiix: Well your Captain always like proving you wrong

Cherry by @barefoothighlander: Ghost finds out about your side gig

The Captain by @as-is-above-so-below: Ghost’s wife joins the team on an op agaisnt his wishes

Bleeding Out Pt.1, Bleeding Out Pt.2 and Bleeding Out Pt.3 by @constantcrisis19: A bomb almost levels the entire town. Ghost extracts you.

Oneshots & Multichapter and Price’s Birthday by @rileyslibrary: An entire collection of Simon Riley oneshots

The Things I Never Said Pt.1 and The Things I Never Said Pt.2 by @lvlyghost: When the inevitable happens, you run

Ghost in the Austrian Asylum by @prazinos: The two of you want him as well

Painless Bruises by @trashykawahq: Avoiding Simon’s gaze is harder than it’s ever been

The Experiments by @diaryofanidiot: Forced to fight and claw her way to live

Resentment by @starl1cht: You distance yourself. But does he notice?

The Accused by @amoristt: You fucking ran. What choice did you have?

Badges of Honor by @clairdelunelove: Ghost always recieves the biggest stickers

King!Ghost x Princess!Reader by @hyperactively-me: Stubborn Princess who warms up to the King

Ghost x Civillian Masterlist by @sim0nril3y: How he met his civillian and fell in love

Sole Survivor by @halcyone-of-the-sea: “Who’s the guy with the mohawk?”

The Twins by @princessdimondheart: He saw his own eyes

How many fingers am I holding up by @sprout-fics: “Don’t hate me for this, Si.” You think weakly

Lime-Sized by @imperihoe-writes: Sighing happily, she wiggled a bit deeper into his embrace

Bodyguard!Simon x Popstar!Reader by @xo-cod: Simon looks on in pride

Phantom Frost Line by @diejager: You’re a new face, unknown to Ghost and he isn’t too keen about the news

Nothing’s New by @thewriterg: He held you like he always will and as he always had

Unmasked Love by @springtyme: she turns her head to look over at you with an excited expression on her little face

My Baby Swinging by @tojisun: Simon and his pretty little sweetheart’s adventures

Welcome Home by @babygirl-riley: but when she was around wow, he would make sure everyone knew who she was

Odds On by @bits-and-babs: The smirk that had been threatening to break finally cracks across your lips at the confirmation of your victory

Digging Gaze by @halcyone-of-the-sea: But he was afraid, as well. Terrified

His Heart, His Light, His World by @thexsilentxwordsmith: "You deserve it all, Simon. Every once of it."

Unexpected by @dammn-dean: Simon felt a pang of something up his spine, similar to jealousy but close to disappointment in himself.

If Only You Would Have Trusted Me by @ltghosty: That was the only thing that helped you come to peace with the things you were forced to do in order to protect your family.

Husband!Simon by @ahqkas: he didn’t hesitate to scoop the smiling baby up into his arms

Glory Days by @sstormyskyesss: If you weren't focused on calculating the best strategy out of this particular setback, you’d be able to see the stars in Simon’s eyes

Simon Riley Collection by @starstruckmiraclekitty:

Cure For Me [zombie!ghost] by @groguspicklejar:

Who Wants to Live Forever by @writeforfandoms: Then his lips twitched. “Took you long enough.” 

Vegas Wedding by @ceilidho: When he stretches an arm up to scratch his upper back, you almost whimper at the way his arm bulges. 

Secret Haven by @lightwing-s: and the moment his eyes caught yours you could clearly understand his message.

Lovely by @daisies-daydreams: “Even though this isn’t on my finger while I’m at work, I’ll always act like it is,” you reassured him

Homeward Bound AU by @writeforfandoms: You spared a brief thought of thanks that your mother had taught you everything about this job. 

Firefighter!Simon Riley by @thelaisydazy: He loves the ones handed over the counter by the cute worker that smiles at him and fusses over the dog every morning.

Simon’s Favorite Hair by @lovifie: And in that moment, with your hair still in his hand, he knew he was in trouble.

Smells Like Team Spirit by @tulipsbymybed: Star lacrosse player for his university, pretending, his roommate, is his girlfriend

Coffee Shop by @sinkovia: His life was good, and he couldn't ask for more

Among the Bullets Ch.1 Pt.1, Ch.1 Pt.2, Ch.2 Pt.1 , Ch.2 Pt.2 by @chaosandmarigolds: “Adrenaline makes the body do some pretty insane things, sir.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#undercover-smutlover #call of duty #modern warfare #cod smut #task force 141 #lieutenant simon riley #ghost #simon riley #lieutenant #favorite fics #smut

[bravo4iscool]

Hey hey, I'd like to give an idea!!

I know that a lot of people actually focus on ghost x reader stuff, AND THAT'S OK, but I've been thinking about some content of reader actually being Simon's kid or something. Because I only find content similar to it in very weird accounts that somehow turn those into incest fanfics, and it gives me the ick.

I'll understand if you just ignore this or not feel like writing it, I just felt like I wanted to bring this idea up because, well, why not.

I LOVE THIS!!! thank you so much for trusting me with this! i’ll try my best hahaha.

i love simon’s!kid fanfics and all those incest fics really are the bane of my existence😭. how tf do you come up with stuff like that lmao?

anyways, since you weren’t specific with the type of fic you want i’m gonna turn this into a (toxic!)singledad!simon!AU🫣

for this i’m taking inspiration from my favourite series ‘seal team’ and its main character the navy seal master chief jason hayes.

he (jason) has two children (one daughter and one son) and is anything but a perfect father. he tried to be better after his ex wive’s death but, well…

but i don’t wanna talk too much, let’s go🫣

readers nickname is nugget btw and they have a younger brother named jacob :)

(i hope you like this, i tried my best😭)

(masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

You sigh and shrug off your jacket. You’re drenched in water, a little puddle forming where you stand. You shiver and pull off your shoes with a grunt, hoping that you didn’t alert your dad.

“Hey Nugget.” You grimace when you hear your dad’s voice. You didn’t want him to notice you.

“Hi dad,” you quickly greet him, trying to squish past him but he grabs your arm, holding you back. You take a deep breath before you look at him. The sooner this was over the better.

“Why are your clothes wet?” he wants to know, looking you up and down, frowning at you.

“It’s raining outside,” you drily remark, clearing your throat when he hits you with a sharp gaze. You sigh, “You were meant to pick me up but you didn’t show up, okay? All my friends were gone and I needed to walk home.”

His grip around your arm weakens and he frowns at you again. “What do you mean, I was supposed to pick you up?”

“The way I said it. You told me you’d pick me up but you didn’t show.” You shrug. “It’s nothing new, no? Now, can I please go to my room? I’d like to change.” You wait for his answer but you get none. He only lets go of your arm, watching after you when you leave.

You peek into your brothers room before you walk into your bathroom and check after him. “Hey Josy. Have you eaten already?” you want to know, leaning against his doorframe.

He looks up from his game, smiling and shaking his head. “Nah. He came home like two hours ago. He hasn’t talked to me.” 

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself off the door frame. “Okay. I’ll quickly shower and then I’ll see what I can make. You good with that?”

“Jup,” your little brother answers, already too distracted by his video game again. You shake your head with a smile, heading towards your bathroom.

-

“You want something to eat?” you ask Simon when you start to rummage around in the kitchen. “Josy said he didn’t have anything so I thought about making some,” you tell him, barely waiting for your dad’s response.

But when you really don’t get one you turn around and and walk a couple steps into the living room. There you see him, peacefully sleeping on the couch, one arms dangling off the side and his mouth slightly agape.

You smile to yourself and carefully walk towards him to drape a blanket over him. You look at him for a second before you lift his head to put a pillow under it. Then you leave as quietly as you arrived.

When you call your brother for dinner you motion him to be quiet as he enters. “Dad’s asleep, I don’t want to wake him up,” you explain, setting Jacob’s plate down in front of him.

“Thanks,” he smiles, immediately digging into the food. “Y’know, you should become a chef with your cooking skills,” he smacks after some moments, nodding along to his statement.

You chuckle and shake your head. “You know that there’s no culinary school around here… Besides I can’t leave you or dad alone.”

Jacob only rolls his eyes at that, stuffing another fork of food into his mouth. “Sometimes I think he doesn’t even care about us.”

You immediately frown at your brother, holding yourself back from hardly scolding him. “Josy, don’t say that! Of course he cares about us! He’s just…” you try to find the right words to discribe your dad but, well… there was only one that came to mind. You sigh, “He’s just a bit difficult. You know his job…” You try to find excuses for his behaviour, knowing that it actually wasn’t but you didn’t want to hit your brother with the stone cold reality.

“He tries his best,” is the way you end the topic not knowing that Simon listened from the living room, his eyes filling with tears. Was he really that bad? Was he really failing that hard? Was he really so…unavailable to his children?

-

The next day you wake up your dad’s gone. No note, no information; he’s just gone. At first you didn’t think anything of it, he surely would be home in the evening but when he didn’t show you start to get worried.

You don’t tell Joseph about it, you keep to yourself and dial the Captains phone number. He surely could tell you where your dad was.

“Price,” he answers the phone and you let out a deep breath.

“Hi John! Is my dad with you?” you immediately ask, pacing up and down in your kitchen. “He hasn’t been home and doesn’t answer my texts or calls. I’m worried about him…” you tell the Captain, your eyes nervously darting around.

John listens to you and then tell you, “He’s not with me. We’re not due for deployment until almost two months,” he further informs you and your heart sinks.

“What do you mean, he’s not with you? Do you know where he is?” Your voice wavers and you feel your eyes starting to burn.

“I’m sorry Nugget but… I don’t know where he is…” You can hear him walking around, then he talks again. “I’ll keep my eyes out for him, okay? I’ll send someone over to you as soon as I’m finished here.”

“Oh, no no no, it’s fine. I- we don’t need someone, it’s alright,” you immediately deny, not wanting anyone else to know your dad was gone. “I’m gonna call Johnny, maybe he knows where he is. You don’t need to send someone,” you explain, chewing your nails—a habit you actually wanted to get rid of.

You can practically feel the hesitance of the Captain but after a couple seconds he agrees. “Okay. But I’ll look after you as soon as I can. I don’t want you and Joseph to be alone,” is his compromise and you can’t help but agree.

“I’ll talk to you again later, okay?” Price sighs. “Some recruit did shit and I need to fix it now.”

“Okay, yes.” You end the call, your hand wiping over your face in a state of panic. You didn’t know where your dad was, if he was okay or if he’d come back. You didn’t know how to look after yourself and Joseph, you probably needed to quit school to keep track of all the bills and-

“Where’s dad?” Joseph walks into the kitchen, headphones around his neck, munching on chips or something like that.

“He’s…at work,” you quickly lie, trying to hide you glassy eyes. “I don’t know when he’ll be back.” Jacob’s happy with that answer and opens the fridge.

“We gonna take the bus to school?” he wants to know, glancing at you.

“You’ll go alone today,” you tell him, handing him his lunch box. “I have an important appointment.”

“If you say so,” he shrugs, grabbing his backpack and leaves before you can properly say goodbye. As soon as you’re sure he left you grab your phone again and dial Johnny’s phone number.

As expected he also doesn’t know where your dad was but promises to to keep an eye out for him. Fucking hell, why did he just leave? Did someone shit in his brain or what? He’s never pulled something like that before…

-

Simon returns almost four months later. He didn’t know why he left. He didn’t know anything but one thing he did know was that he probably lost his children for good now…

His hands almost shake when he opens the door and he’s prepared for screaming and crying and breakdowns but when you see him your eyes widen and the mug in your hand falls to the ground.

“Dad,” you whisper and before he can even process everything you’re crashing into his arms, crying your eyes out.

“I’m sorry Nugget, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into your hair, holding you close and never wanting to let you go again.

And you’re so close to forgiving him already; almost forgetting how you needed to quit school and take a job in the sketchy diner down the road. Almost forgetting how you cried yourself to sleep every night, trying to hide the disappearance of your dad from Joseph.

Simon feels how his hands start to shake and his eyes start to burn while he’s holding you; you’re crying in his arms and he’s so close to breaking down but then Joseph walks in.

“What do you want here?” His voice is cold, his gaze hard. He doesn’t flinch when your dad let’s go of you and straightens his back to his full height.

Your dad says nothing, only looks at his son, waiting for him to continue talking. “You left,” Joseph grits out, purposefully walking towards Simon. “You left and you didn’t even have the balls to tell us why!”

He was now screaming, his face red and his voice shaking. “How dare you come back now! How dare you!”

“Josy-“ you try to calm him down but he slaps your hand away, smacking his finger into his father’s chest.

“You think it’s okay to just leave? Nugget quit school to keep us above water while you were gone!” Joseph was now throwing pathetic punches at Simon’s chest, tears brimming him his eyes. “We needed you and you just decided to be a weak fuck and quit!”

Tears were running down your little brothers cheeks as he was hitting your dad chest and you wanted to pull him into your arms arms and comfort him but you yourself were shaking, your vision blurry from already shed tears.

“I’m sorry Josy,” Simon whispered, ignoring the punches his son was throwing at him, only pulling him into his arms and holding him close. “I don’t-“ his voice breaks. “I don’t know why I left. I’m sorry…”

Joseph shakes and cries and your heart breaks again. Carefully you walk towards them both, placing your arms around your brother. “We’ll be fine Josy,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his head. “We’ll be fine…”

When you were alone with your dad, once Joseph went to sleep you place a cup of tea in front of him and sit down opposite of him.

“You’ve got a lot to fix,” you tell him, your expression neutral, besides your shaking hands beneath the table. “You just…disappeared and that left its scars. Don’t think that they’ll be healed just because you came home again.”

He listens to you, nodding along and staring at his tea. “I know. And i’m keen on fixing it.” He looks up and you see his red eyes. “I’m sorry I led Nugget. I’ll make it up, okay? I’ll do my best.”

“I know,” you try to believe him but in the back of your head you’re reminded of all the times he didn’t keep his promises…

pt.2 lol?

#writing #ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #story writing #call of duty #simon riley #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #dad!simon riley #dad!ghost #dad!simon ghost riley #kid!reader #simon riley brainrot lol #father-child-relationship #simon’s a kinda shitty dad #but he tried his best #i promise

[inconsistentwriting]

In between breaths

Notes: This was written with my OC in mind, but I tried to keep it as neutral as possible. GN! Reader x SingleDad! Ghost. “Mom” used as a role, not a gender thing. Kinda rushed end because Writer's Block was about to hit me. I put SMYL's "You knew it was me" EP and let my mind go wild.

I had met Simon Riley when we were children. A fateful Christmas, I had traveled with my family to enjoy the holidays in my uncle’s place. I was 12 years old, and it was my first Christmas knowing Santa wasn’t real. In hindsight, I’m glad I knew. If I hadn’t maybe Simon and I wouldn’t have become as close as we did. Midnight had arrives and the fireworks were roaring. I stood in the middle of the field behind my uncle’s yard until I saw a boy standing not too far. He was watching the fireworks, but he had a sad expression on his face. I decided to approach him to ask him why he was sad. That boy, I later learned, was named Simon and he was 8 years old. He explained to me that Santa hadn’t arrived in his home. I’ll never get over what I did, I can’t even remember how exactly it happened, but I put on a face, as if I was deep in thought. After a second I raised a finger, declaring: “Santa didn’t forget about you, he just got confused with the address. I was wondering whose the extra presents under my tree were for. Wait right here, I’ll go bring them for you”. I’ll never stop being grateful to my quick-wit. A teddy bear and a football, part of my presents which I just gave up for the younger boy to have. A teddy bear and a football changed the entire trajectory of my life.

Now, I’m 26 years old and I am in college, studying medicine. Simon and I remained friends throughout of childhood and teenage years. For more than a decade, we were there for each other. I helped him deal with his pain in a healthier way, to open up, even if only a little. We were very close until I had to move away for college. Now it’s been three years since we last saw each other. My studies kept me away for too long and my mental health was begging me for a break, so I decided to spend the summer back at home, and maybe, just maybe, see Simon once again. I wondered how he must have been all these years. He would be 22, and a half, as he always felt the need to remark. I wondered if he had found a partner, a job, something to study. What had been of him all these years?

Whatever I had hoped to find surely wasn’t anything like the scene before me. After arriving to our town, I saw Simon’s mom running errands in the market, pushing a baby stroller. I approached to say hello and catch up, and she introduced me to the little boy on the stroller. His name was Ken, and he was Simon’s son. The little boy was holding the same teddy bear I had given Simon 14 years before. I guess my shock must have been very apparent because she rushed to explain. Turns out, during a one night stand, Simon’s protection broke, resulting in the sleeping toddler on the carriage. She explained that his mother didn’t want to be involved in his life, so she left, and that Simon had been raising him on his own. Simon’s mom helped whenever she could, but with her other son in rehab, it had become very hard for her. The story broke my heart, not only because of the idea of his mother abandoning the little ray of sun that slept peacefully in his stroller, but the idea of Simon, who I know had no idea of how to be a father, doing it all on his own.

The moment I could finally catch Simon and speak with him, it seemed as if those three years apart meant nothing, as if no time had passed between us. I asked why he never told me, why he never asked me for help. He said the obvious excuse, “You were busy with school”, “I didn’t want to worry you”, etc. He introduced me to Ken and I decided to take a semester off to help him a little with the day to day, to see if I could help him grow confident in his parenting. By accident, I found out, Simon had ended up spoiling his son a little. The little boy had no idea how to regulate his emotions and Simon was definitely not a great example. Si wasn’t abusive at all, that’s the only thing he knew, never to put his hands on his kid, like his father had done; but he had no idea on how to properly calm down a child. It took time and patience, but with time I was able to see the growth of both Simon and Ken.

One day, after a long day at work, Simon had arrived home tired and stressed. He entered the kitchen, where I was, keeping an eye on dinner. Ken was peacefully sleeping on my arms; poor angel was exhausted after a long day. My best friend made his way towards me and pressed his forehead against my shoulder.

-Rough day today, huh?

-Terrible one.

-I think I know of something that’ll cheer you up a bit.

I pointed at the kitchen table, where a sheet of paper laid, surrounded by crayons. The paper said “My Hero” and under it was a drawing of Simon holding Ken. When Simon grabbed it, a tired smile crept up to his lips before he turned around to plant a kiss on the little sleeping toddler on my arms.

-He also did his homework before I even told him anything.

-Homework? He is barely three.

-His homework is drawing with crayons, not calculus, Si. It’s only so he can learn the habit and it’s easier for him to keep it going when he grows up.

I giggled, shaking my head. I saw his open arms, silently asking me to hold his kid. I handed him the sleeping child, who tossed a little as I did.

-Why was he sleeping on your arms?

-Poor baby was tired, but he wanted to stay with me, so I offered holding him. When he fell asleep, I tried to put him down on his bed, but he’d always wake up fuzzy about it.

-He really loves being around you. He got that from me.

-I suppose he did.

Simon sat down on one of the chairs around the kitchen table, hugging his son and feeling the tension and stress of the day melt off.

-Coming home to you two feels like a dream. Your presence and Ken’s hugs make a shitty day really feel like nothing more than a bad dream. Your presence really helped us. It helped me. Thank you.

-I want to be able to be here for you, Si. Not only now, but every time. You are one of the most important people to me, and I would’ve loved to be here since the start.

-I’m sorry I never told you.

-I understand why you did it, though.

The evening passed by, Ken woke up and started to talk to his father about his day, Simon shared the sweet moment with his child and I finished making dinner. We all sat down to eat, we talked and laughed, and by the end, as he cleaned his mouth with a napkin, Ken said in that bubbly voice of his

-Thank you mama.

Simon and I were shocked. He almost choked on the drink on his glass, and I almost dropped the plates I had gathered. Simon was the first to come out of our shock.

-What did you say, buddy?

-Thank you mama.

In his innocence, Ken hadn’t notice the confusion and shock in his father’s voice. I didn’t want the boy to think he did something wrong, so I quickly answered

-You are welcomed, Kenny.

Simon and I both tried to keep our cool. We cleaned up the dishes, tidied up and took Ken to bed. We tucked him in like we always did and then Simon dared to ask the toddler.

-Hey little man, I need to ask you something. Why did you call them mama earlier?

-Because they are mama shaped. They are nice and good and care for me. Like a mama.

I could barely contain the tears building up on the corners of my eyes. The little baby boy I had come to love as my own also considered me as his own. I was speechless. I could only hug him a little tighter and kiss his chubby little cheeks before saying goodnight. After we put the boy down to sleep, Simon and I sat down to talk about what had happened. Before he could even get a world in, I decided to talk.

-If you don’t feel comfortable with Kenny calling me mama, I’ll talk to him about it. I’ll let him know I’m only your friend and everything, It’s okay-

Before I could continue rambling, Simon grabbed my face between his hands.

-Stop, stop. Quit overthinking for a second and listen.

I locked my gaze with those beautiful big brown eyes of his, instantly stopping to listen to him.

-Look… I noticed the tears that built up on your eyes when Ken called you like that. I know you, and I know how much this means to you. And honestly? It means a lot for me too. My son sees you as his mama, and I’d give anything for this beautiful relationship between you two to keep this pureness. In his eyes and in mine, you are the only mama he’s ever known. If you feel comfortable with him calling you that way, I would be so happy…

I couldn’t help myself. I could only interrupt him with a hug, pulling him so close to my body, as if afraid he might change his mind if I let go.

-I’d love to. I want to be here for both of you. You are so important to me; I can’t imagine a life without both of you in it. I want to keep being Kenny’s mama. I want to take care of him, to love him and to love you.

The last few words came out as a surprise to both of us. I hoped he hadn’t heard or that he’d think nothing of it, but as he pulled me away to look into my eyes, I could see the shock on his eyes.

-You mean that? You actually feel like that? I’m not dreaming, am I?

Sheepishly, I nodded. I couldn’t let the words out, but there was no turning back now. I wanted to look up, to see his reaction, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. What if he changed his mind about me being around his son? What if I just fucked up our friendship? What if…? Before my mind could go any further down the rabbit hole, his fingers found my chin, making me look up into his eyes.

-You really love me? Despite having seen the ugly side of me? Despite how hard I was all throughout our teenage years? Despite the fact I made myself unreachable for three years because I was ashamed of not knowing what the hell I was doing? You love me?

His voice carried the disbelief I knew he always held when someone showed him love like this. He thought himself undeserving, and it crushed my soul. I thought to myself, “What the hell, he already knows, might as well show him how serious I am”, before leaning in and kissing his lips. I wanted to leave no doubt on his mind. I wanted him to understand. To my surprise, he pulled me closer, kissing me back as I melted in his embrace. After a couple of seconds, we pulled away from each other to look into the other’s eyes. We didn’t have to say much, guided by the feeling of each other’s arms, lips, smiles. It flowed like natural, it felt correct, and any doubt dissipated between kisses and I love you’s. We just cuddled on the couch, feeling the weight lifting from our shoulders, as we hugged, kissed, talked and laughed.

I was glad he didn’t have to work in the morning, because neither of us wanted to let go…

#gn reader #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod fluff #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader

[reelovesfictionalmen]

Would you be alright with writing a singleDad!simon short fic?

I will give it a try! I'll reply to this again when I have brainstormed enough and written it

[moxxchild]

Directory

Just a disclaimer: These stories are not mine in any way, I just reblog. 

(... This is very much just so I don’t lose what I want to read)

This is the directory in which you’ll find scenarios/series by member, different genre and AU. 

Most of these are rated M, please read the warnings on the ff.

BTS

Namjoon

Seokjin

Yoongi

Hoseok

Jimin

Taehyung

Jungkook

GOT7

JB

Mark

Jackson

Jinyoung

Youngjae

Bambam

Yugyeom

VIXX

Leo

Ken

EXO

Chanyeol

Kyungsoo

Sehun

SEVENTEEN

Seungcheol

Wonwoo

Mingyu

Vernon

OTHERS

AOMG Jay Park

AOMG Simon Dominic

DPR Christian Yu

WINNER Mino

NCT Taeyong

BY GENRE

Angst

Smut

Fluff

SFW

BY AU

Artist!AU

Athlete!AU

Badboy!AU

Bartender!AU 

Boxer!AU

Camboy!AU

CEO!AU

Christmas!AU

College!AU

Dancer!AU

Demon!AU

Devil!AU

Doctor!AU

Domestic!AU

E2L!AU

F2L!AU

Fakedating!AU

Fantasy!AU

Farmer!AU

Fratboy!AU

Fuckboy!AU

FWB!AU

Gang!AU

Greekgod!AU

Hogwarts!AU 

Highschool!AU

Hybrid!AU

Idol!AU

Mafia!AU

Marriage!AU

Musician!AU

Neighbor!AU

Pornstar!AU

Pregnancy!AU

Racer!AU

Roommate!AU

Royalty!AU

S2L!AU

Santa!AU

Schoolpres!AU

Sexworker!AU

Singledad!AU

Singlemom!AU

Sliceoflife!AU

Soulmate!AU

Sugardaddy!AU

Tattooartist!AU

Teacher!AU

Vampire!AU

Waiter!AU

Work!AU

ilovethis

[lvrxly]

singledad!Ghost who lives next door with his little boy, he asks you to babysit constantly due to his job and constant busy schedule full of who knows what, he doesn't trust anyone else to know what his kid needs and likes since he grew up around you.

"Thanks again for this y/n, I should be back around 9pm, please try and get him to bed before then," Ghost says frantically as he passes his son over to you along with his diaper bag and favorite blanket.

He had a date scheduled tonight with a lady he met through his best friend, John MacTavish. You nod and wave Simon goodbye, shutting the door with a sigh as you put his son down and watch him run towards the corner you have filled with toys just for him. What the hell were you doing...

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

singledad!Ghost who has to let himself into your house at 10pm because you weren't answering the door. He got back later than expected but still, he expected you to be up. But he freezes at the door, the key still in the lock as he stares at your couch.

The door clicks open as Simon uses the key that was poorly hidden under your doormat. He's told you to change the location countless times but you don't listen, you never do. With a soft sigh he is about to speak but freezes as his eyes land on your couch.

There you laid on your back, an arm falling off the couch and a leg propped up on the back cushion, snoring lightly. That position couldn't have been that comfortable. But that's not what made him freeze. It was how his son was laying on your chest, fast asleep with his favorite blanket draped over his back. You looked as if his son was your own.

Simon has been so dumb..You had been treating his son as your own all this time, and he never saw it. He also never had seen how much he loved how you looked with his son in your arms...

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

singledad!Ghost who drops his son off with his parents for the weekend, coming over to your house with a single rose and a bottle of champagne. It's not a date, he states, more of a friends hanging out without the ruckus of a little boy running around.

"No really, you're such a big help, I honestly don't know what I'd do without you. And he loves you a lot." Simon is more soft spoken than usual as he sits at your kitchen counter, twirling the rose between his fingertips. You're frantically searching your cabinets for those champagne glasses you got all those years ago that you've never used. You swear you still had them.

"It's no biggy. He's a good kid, a joy to have around and probably one of my only friends!" You laugh, sighing after you cant find those dumbass champagne glasses and grabbing two mugs out of the cabinet instead. Not quite what you'd normally drink something like champagne out of, but it would have to work.

"So I'm not considered a friend?" Simon says with a hurt tone, taking the mug with a raised brow and a laugh. He then looks down at the mug to which it read "Male Tears" in black lettering on the front. His shoulders shake in silent laughter.

"Eh, I kinda like your son more than you, he's less broody," You tease, pouring the champagne into each of your mugs. Your mug saying "Reading is Sexy" with blue lettering. You would be lying if you said you didn't have some questionable mug choices.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

a/n: kinda wanna turn this into a fic...should I?

EDIT: FIC HAS BEEN POSTED <33

#simon ghost riley x you #hot dad alert #cod x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x female reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #DEFINITELY WRITING THIS

[vampykween]

Second Chances - we'll be alright

summary: your entire life changed the day Poppy Riley came into it, and all these years later you were still immensely grateful for how everything worked out. a/n: please please forgive me i know i haven't written part three yet but i swear it will come eventually. anyway enjoy this little glimpse into the future of this series! i promise this doesn't spoil the original timeline (second chances was always going to be a HEA) also this is barely edited I'm sorry oops! wc: 2.1K second chances masterlist

You remember what it was like being a teenager; you remember not wanting to hear anything your parents had to say, unfortunately, it never occurred to you what it would be like on the other side.

Poppy had come home furious, over what you’re not even sure about. She storms straight past you ignoring your ‘hello’ and stomps aggressively up the stairs rounding it all off by slamming her door. Your husband trails into the arms full of the groceries he was sent out to get, huffing loudly while dumping the bags onto the kitchen island.

“What’s going with the two of you today?” you question your husband while putting away the food for the week. Simon takes a deep, long breath and releases it slowly before responding, “She’s pissed at me because I caught her fuckin’ neckin’ some dodgy lad when I went to pick her up,” You can see it clear as day your husband is pissed – Poppy is fifteen years old, but sometimes he treats her like she’s still just a little girl. Suddenly you hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet barreling into the kitchen – your youngest, Iris, is beelining straight for her father.

“Hi daddy!” your toddler makes grabby hands at Simon, and he scoops her up immediately and smothers her with kisses. All these years later, and still seeing Simon fall into the role of loving father so easily turns your heart to mush.

 “Maybe let me go talk to her? I remember what it was like being fifteen, no girl wants her dad to talk to her about dating and boys.” Your husband sighs and pulls Iris tighter against his chest but nods reluctantly.

You knock softly on your teenager’s bedroom door - you’re hoping you can smooth the situation over – as much as Simon is upset about seeing his little girl growing up, he’s suffering even more knowing she’s upset at him.

“Go away!”

You disregard Poppy’s request, probably your first mistake, because you couldn't possibly fathom the conversation that would ensue.

You stick your head through the gap in the door, slowly pushing it all the way open. Making your way over to sit at the end of the bed, Poppy turns over and rolls her eyes at you. Okay, so that’s how this was going to be.

“Poppy, love, I just want to talk to you, your dad told me what happened earlier,” you try a gentle approach, mostly because you’re not even sure what you should say; you’re not mad at her, you just want her to be able to talk to you about these kinds of things.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she mumbles, then adds on “ya know you’re not even my real mum, I don’t want to talk to you about this.”

If your heart wasn’t pounding so ferociously in your ears, you would’ve been sure it stopped completely. Tears begin to well up in your eyes, the walls seem to be closing in on you and so in the most composed manner you can manage you bolt out of her room and to the primary bedroom.

Simon is finishing putting away laundry when he sees you shoot straight through the door and dive under the covers, sobbing loudly.

“Love, hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

You can’t seem to get a coherent thought out as you choke around sobs. Simon rubs your back soothingly until you’ve calmed down enough to speak.

“She hates me Simon, I- I don’t know what I did wrong, but she hates me!”

“Sweetheart I’m sure she doesn’t hate you, aren’t you always telling me that she's a teenager and that I shouldn’t take everything she says so personally,” Simon says hoping to ease your fears and heartache.

“Well, maybe I was wrong. Baby, she looked me in my eyes and said that ‘I’m not her real mom and that she doesn’t want to talk to me about things.”

The fingers running through your hair cease movement, and he looks at you like you’ve grown two heads.

“She said what?! You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me, she can’t just say that to you.” Simon is seething, absolutely boiling over with anger. He loves his firstborn immensely - she’s his entire world, but sometimes she drove him up the fucking wall. It’s moments like these that make him wish he could turn back the clock, and shrink her back down into his baby girl - one that doesn't brush him off and snap at her mother and father all the time. On the short walk to her bedroom, Simon does his best to quell the frustration he has with her after making you cry. He doesn't care how upset he is with her, he never has and never will spew that anger onto her, or any of his girls. 

He knocks softly on Poppy’s door, although it’s performative really because he twists the knob and enters anyway. The teenage girl is balled up in a heap on her bed, back facing him, and if the situation was different he’d be laughing at how adorable she looked. He pauses his steps momentarily, seeing if she’ll tell him off too. When he’s met with continued silence, he strides over and parks himself on the edge of her bed. Simon takes in the sight of his daughter’s bedroom; there’s makeup littering her vanity, homework strewn across her desk, band posters and polaroids of her friends tacked up on the walls, and her bed holds a mountain of stuffed animals she’s accumulated over the years. Something akin to guilt stirs in him, maybe he was a little too hard on her. It’s not like one kiss makes her any different than the girl he knows she is. Poppy breaks him from his reverie when she sits up, still bundled in her blanket with tears in her eyes, and turns towards him.

“Are ya gonna sit there and stare at me all day or what?” Okay, maybe she was a little different than he remembered. She’s unfortunately caught his bad mouth and short temper. He brushes off her little quip and dives right into what he wants to say in the first place. 

“Ya want to be mad at me go ahead, but what you said to mum? That was cruel Poppy.” he serves her with a stern look and she knows she’s really in for it this time; no amount of puppy eyes would get her out of this. Poppy fidgets with the skin of her fingers, sighing loudly as she contemplates how to respond. She knows what she said was harsh, and if she could take it back she would. 

Sometimes she looks back on her life and is lucky her dad found someone who loved him and her wholly, but then sometimes she’s angry because why couldn't it have just been them two forever? Her dad was a lot more forgiving about things when she was his only little girl and now she’s got to be a good example for her two younger sisters thanks to you. The teenager doesn't even realize she’s crying until Simon is reaching across the bed to pull her into his arms, wiping at her tears like he always did when she was little. 

“I- I just wish i could do normal teenage things without you getting upset at me,” she choked out between cries. Her father’s heart breaks at her referring to him as ‘daddy’ because he couldn't remember the last time she did that, and it splits even further when he realizes he’s letting his fear of her growing up hinder their relationship. “You let Lily and Iris get away with so much, cause they’re little and I get it, but-” Poppy inhales shakily knowing her next words would cut him like a knife “-when it was just you, me, and mum you let me get away with things too.” 

The older man’s heart feels decimated. Has he been so much harder on Poppy recently? He’s embarrassed to admit he couldn't even recall because he’s been so busy wrangling toddlers all day. As much as he wants to tell her he doesn't want her snogging wannabe bad boys at school, he knows apologizing is the better course of action. 

“Petal, I know I was hard on you today, I can admit that. Do i like the idea of you kissing and dating and all that, absolutely fuckin’ not, but im sure you’ll do it anyway, so ill get over it.” Simon can see his daughter’s eyes light up at his words. “Aye I'm not saying come home with a boyfriend tomorrow, im saying im sorry, and i'll try to let you grow up even if i hate it.” The last word in Simon’s apology comes out airy as Poppy wraps her arms around him and squeezes tightly. 

“Thank you dad. I promise I won't do anything  crazy, at least not yet,” she teases him cheekily. He gives her a pointed look of ‘don't push it’ and plants a kiss on the top of her head. 

“I hate to ruin the good mood we’ve got, but you still need to apologize to your mum. She’s really torn up over what you said to her.” He hates that he’s dampening the mood, but as much as he loves his daughter, he’s not going to let her disrespect you. Poppy sighs sadly, untangles herself from her blankets, and makes way for your bedroom. When she turns back to gauge her father’s reaction, he motions for her to go on. 

Your head is pounding after the long cry session you’ve just finished having. You feel foolish for letting Poppy’s words get to you, she’s only a teenager after all. But having her pierce you right in your most sensitive spot hurt like hell. No matter how many years have passed, and how many hurdles you’ve jumped, there were always days when you remembered that you weren't Poppy’s biological mom. None of that made your family any less real, you knew that, but hearing her remind you of that truth was like a punch to the gut. You’re startled by the sound of the bedroom door creaking open, and your breath catches at the sight of your daughter peeking her head in. 

“Can I  come in please,” she questions with a slightly pleading tone. Poppy wasn't sure what she’d do if you said no.  It would be fair, but despite her words, every girl still needs their mom, chosen or not. You nod your head and motion for her to join you on the bed. Raising your arm, she slides into your side, head on your shoulder just like she used to always do growing up. Your heart clenched wistfully at the thought. You couldn't stay mad at her even if you tried, no matter how things came to be, Poppy would always be your little girl. After a pregnant moment of silence, she finally speaks in the quiet room. 

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier, that wasn’t kind of me. You always have and will be my real mum, no matter what. You dont think I’m a bad person do you?” Your eyes are shining with tears as you look down at the teenager, how did you manage to raise such a wonderful fifteen-year-old? When you were fifteen you spent every waking moment walking on eggshells around your mother trying with all your might to not misstep in her minefield.  Fifteen year old you, laid awake and cried when you realized you were just like your mother and you were doomed to always bite the hands that fed you, that loved you. But here Poppy was, cuddled up in your bed, tear-stained face apologizing because she hurt you, and now you’re crying too because if only you were held like this by your mother growing up. 

“My little petal, of course, I don't think you’re a bad person. Even the kindest of people lash out at people when they’re hurt. There are going to be days when you probably can't even stand the sight of my face, but please know I will love you endlessly even then.” Poppy buries her face deeper into the crook of your neck and hugs you tightly, you can feel her tears staining your shirt, but you couldn't care less as yours fall freely down your face. She mumbles a soft “i love you” and you chuckle faintly and press a kiss to the crown of her head. There was never going to be a time when you didn't love Poppy Riley with everything in you, not when meeting that little girl all those years ago changed the course of your entire life for the better.

taglist: @darkravenqueen98 @jupiternighties @lunamoonbby @happy-mushrooms @yyiikes @liliumbosniacum @fluffymaxsworld @rockcollector3000

#mic writes #second chances au #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley fluff #singledad!simon #dad!simon #oc: poppy #can you tell i love the quote about being a violent dog yeah.... #cant help myself i must always project my problems onto my characters oops

[sun-roach]

Because i am still thinking about a cod ice hockey fic here is the NHL team: TF141

Short disclaimer i am new to ice hockey so I am sorry if it's not accurate nfndndnkkdkdn

Coach: Hershel Shepherd

Manager/co-coach: Kate Laswell, Nikolai (co-coach to Laswell later)

Captain: John Price

Alternate Captain 1: John "Soap" MacTavish

Alternate Captain 2: Simon "Ghost" Riley

Goalie: Yuri

Forwards: Gary "Roach" Sanderson (right wing), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (left wing), Soap (center)

Defensemen: Ghost, Price

Dusters: Joseph Allen (in hospital after a bad game against Konni group), Rook, Archer, Worm, Ozone, Rocket, Meat, Royce, Merlin, Toad

After Roach gets "fired", Rocket gets his spot

SingleDad!Roach is occupying my mind. Yes i am mentally unwell as always. But just imagine Roach with his kid visiting his old team's game and getting the backstage tickets to congratulate or comfort them. And the kid also joining the TF141 bambi league or smth kfkdkkdn

#there was an ice hockey fic about Roach but i cant find it T.T #tf 141 #cod #cod but ice hockey #cod roach #gary roach sanderson #cod ghost #cod soap #call of duty #could be a Roach x anyone fic #other nhl teams could be #kortac #shadow comp #konni group

[eilidh-eternal]

Your Nasty Man™️ Johnny is fueling my freaky side, and I don't know how to handle it.

I must have more....(pretty please)

What would that smug, disgusting bastard of a man do if he found reader also had a nasty side?

Say she found out about his little video collection? She hacks into it, and to just one up his arrogant ass, posts it to OnlyFans and is now getting paid for it! (Realistically, don't ever do this. I'm just being hypothetically horny here)

OR.....

Car Salesman Johnny. She borrows Ghost's classic vehicular muscle baby, finds an abandoned parking lot, and straps herself into the front seat. Uses the vibrator Johnny bought her to overly pleasure herself, capturing the whole ordeal on her phone. But it's not Johnny's name she's moaning. It's Ghost's. And, of course, she sends it to both just to really stick that knife into that Nasty Man™️'s side.

I'm going down the Nasty Man™️ MacTavish drain here. Must cure it with SingleDad!Johnny before I become a complete fiend for that repulsively sexy, damaged man...

Hehehehe that Nasty Man™️… he’s going to have a heart attack because he’s just overheard you asking Simon if he’d be willing to lend you his car again, but not for another driving lesson.

As it turns out, Simon is pretty good with a camera. Has an eye for photography, at least where his car is concerned (He actually has a sizable following on insta and is pretty well known in the car scene) but what you weren’t expecting is how well he directs you as a model.

Knows exactly how to pose you, has learned the angles you look the best from in a matter of about 5 minutes. And the best part? He’s not creepy about it. He’s actually sort of unfazed by your skimpy clothing and the suggestive poses he’s snapping you in. Lets you wear the leather jacket he wears at meets with his name embroidered across the back of it between shots while you both look over the raw photos. And maybe, just maybe, when you have your back turned to him, adjusting an errant strand of hair or preening in the reflection of the tinted windows, he’s snapped a few shots of you in his jacket with his phone.

And oops! His thumb slipped. Accidentally sent them to Johnny.

And Gaz.

And Price.

When you get to the dealership on Monday there’s a shipment of office supplies that needs to be unboxed and put away. More paper, extra ink cartridges, pens and paper clips in bulk, and, because it’s the start of the new year, calendars for the office.

But wait… these… don’t look like the calendars ordered from the supply store? That looks an awful lot like Simons car on the front…

You chalk it up to coincidence, think maybe your manager wanted something a little less bland and more on theme to help liven the place up. It’s probably just some classic car calendar or something.

You don’t realize what it is until a few hours later when you walk by Johnny’s cubicle and something snags your attention. You backpedal, round his desk to look at the calendar pinned to the fabric-lined divider, and freeze, stomach leaping in your chest because that’s you.

That’s you on the hood of Simons car, laid out in your skimpy dress.

What the fuck?

“I think August is my favorite,” a heavily accented voice breathes from behind you. You whirl on him, back pressed to the divider, and stare up in shock at Johnny, grinning down at you impishly.

“Didnae ken they did custom calendars at the supply store. Think we’ll be doin’ these from now on.” He takes a step forward, cages you between him and the divider when he braces a hand on the metal frame. His breathing is heavy, eyes glazed, and the fabric of his button down pulled taught over the bunching muscles in his arms. “Next year though… I think next year should be ye, in that slutty dress, sittin’ pretty on my ride.”

#john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap #soap headcanons #call of duty #cod #cod mwii #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod modern warfare #soap cod #cod 141 #cod soap #cod headcanons #cod imagine #cod mwiii #call of #call of duty soap #call of duty mwii #call of duty mw2 #call of duty smut #call of duty mw19 #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod smut #non con #dub con

[booksnunicorns]

T’embrasser sous la neige — Emily Blaine

Pour cette fin d’année, Juliette avait prévu beaucoup de choses. Des vacances romantiques à la Barbade, un immense sapin à décorer avec Simon, son amoureux, et peut-être même une demande en mariage. Elle n’avait pas prévu en revanche de soudain redevenir célibataire, d’annuler ses congés pour organiser un gala de charité avec le célèbre rocker Evan MacNeil et d’être inscrite par ses amis à un concours de baisers. Alors, quand le musicien lui propose d’être son partenaire, elle se laisse convaincre. Car, même s’il est l’un des célibataires les plus convoités, même s’il se débat encore avec le deuil de son frère et sa nièce de moins d’un an qui n’a plus que lui, Evan parvient à la mettre en confiance. À tel point qu’elle en viendrait presque à abaisser le mur de glace qu’elle a érigé autour de son cœur…

D’Emily Blaine publié en Octobre 2020 chez Harlequin [ Amazon ] 416 pages

On ne risque pas grand-chose quand on prend un Emily Blaine, sauf peut-être une insomnie à lire toute la nuit ! La recette est la même : des sentiments, de la douceur, des amitiés, de l'amour... J'ai rarement été déçue et T'embrasser sous la neige a été une lecture pleine de tendresse dans une période difficile, et ça fait tellement de bien. C'est doux et réconfortant, c'est sexy tout en étant mignon à la fois.

Malgré le début rapide, que j'aurais pu reprocher à d'autres, parce qu'au bout d'une rencontre ; être déjà attaché à quelqu'un me paraît un peu gros sachant que l'un vient de rompre, et l'autre essaye de se remettre d'un deuil. Mais en fin de compte, c'est peut-être dans cette tristesse que l'autre devient un point vers qui s'ancrer.

Une rencontre simple, un peu par hasard et des situations font qu'ils s'apprivoisent plus vite que ce qui aurait dû. Le concours de baiser n'est qu'un moyen pour les lancer et oser, voir grandir leur histoire et nous offrir des moments caliente. Mutuellement, ils s'apportent quelque chose au-delà de l'attirance qu'amène une simple rencontre. Ils sont tendres, ils sont explosifs... c'est un ballet langoureux qui commence.

Evan est un personnage extrêmement attachant, on craque pour lui, pour cette aura douce et bienveillante, pour cet artiste et cet homme qui prend le rôle d'oncle à coeur. Juliette est mignonne aussi, sa bande de potes donne des perspectives et avec elle une ambiance chaleureuse en résulte. Elle est secrète, elle a du mal à se confier et à faire complètement confiance.

Cette romance sent bon la fin d'année mais elle peut bien se lire si vous avez un petit péché mignon pour les #musiciens, pour les #singledad... vous lirez le sourire aux lèvres en voyant Evan et Juliette tomber amoureux.

#AUTEUR Emily Blaine #EDITION Harlequin #GENRE Romance Contemporaine #Noel #pere celibataire #Musiciens #llyza #SP #Netgalley